


loves me, loves me not

by rewindmp3



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, VERY SLOW UPDATES I'M SORRY!, hanahaki disease!au, markbum is endgame dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewindmp3/pseuds/rewindmp3
Summary: they meet for the first time twice, with cherry blossoms floating in the air and up their lungs





	1. before

“This is my tree.”

These are the first words that Im Jaebum ever says to Mark Tuan. These are also the words that wake Mark up from his customary nap under his favorite cherry blossom tree on campus on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in September.

“I’m sorry?” Mark mumbles tiredly, his eyes not quite open yet.

“This is my tree. I always sit here between classes when I don’t have time to go back to the dorms. I’ve never seen anybody here before,” Jaebum elaborates.

Of course, Mark doesn’t know his name is Jaebum yet. All he knows so far after rubbing the sleep from his eyes is that the person in front of him is handsome, yes, but kind of needs to calm down. When Mark looks up, he’s met with the intense stare of a man wearing another version of one of his favorite shirts (the Snoop Dogg on Mark’s shirt is on the back, though). Stare isn’t really the right word. Glare, maybe. Except Mark has always been incredibly observant, especially when it comes to reading people, and it seems like there’s something else behind Jaebum’s sharpness, something that softens the edges a little. Exhaustion? Stress? Anxiety? All of the above? Whatever it is, Mark doesn’t know this man at all, so he won’t pry.

Instead, he hums, “Same. I’ve been coming here since last year and nobody’s ever around when I doze off. The tree’s big enough for two, though, if you want.”

Something like surprise flickers across Jaebum’s face as Mark scoots over a bit, bringing his backpack with him. Mark can tell that Jaebum is a little hesitant, so he flashes what he hopes is an encouraging smile and pats the ground next to him. An invitation.

Jaebum’s answering smile is shy, but grateful, and the vestiges of iciness fade from his gaze as he makes the last steps up the hill to the roots of the tree trunk. He drops his messenger bag on the ground and plops himself down with it. Mark’s eyes are closed again, but he can hear the man thump his back against the tree and exhale. It’s a long sigh, one that speaks of fatigue and frustration and weariness ingrained into his bones, one that Mark is very familiar with.

“I’m Mark, by the way. Mark Tuan.”

“Im Jaebum,” comes the reply. And that’s that.

They don’t say anything for a while. It’s surprisingly not awkward at all as the person sitting next to him just closes his eyes and breathes. Mark has never been good at starting or keeping up meaningless conversations and this stranger—Im Jaebum, Mark corrects himself—doesn’t seem to be in the mood for small talk either. For the most part, aside from with his closest friends, Mark is quiet and reserved. It was quite uncharacteristic of Mark to even invite Jaebum to sit down with him to begin with, but there was something about the way Jaebum held himself, like he thought he should be alone but yearned for company at the same time, that Mark understood. So neither makes any move to initiate conversation and there’s no pressure to scramble for topics to talk about. It’s just two people, recuperating from an already draining day, enjoying the weather and the presence of someone they don’t know, but is comforting nonetheless.

The tree is Mark’s safe haven. He had stumbled across it one day early last year, when he was still the lost, international student who had no idea where any of his classes were, and it has been his tranquil oasis since. Mark indulges in the pleasures of silence and solitude more than most. At first, the tree was Mark’s space to patch himself together again when he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He still had trouble with Korean, was too shy to make friends quickly, and missed home with an ache so bad some days he thought a knife to the gut would hurt less. Later, when he became more adjusted to the foreign soil, opened up (just a little bit), and made friends, the tree became Mark’s space to gather his thoughts, to re-gain his bearings when overwhelmed. He loves his friends, he does, but sometimes when Mark wants a calm environment to think or to just let his mind go blissfully blank, they’re a bit much. Jackson has boundless amounts of energy (he has serious moments, too, but not as often as the times he is buzzing with excitement for seemingly no reason) and Bambam and Yugyeom together give Mark a headache when he isn’t in the mood, so he needs a secret place all for himself.

Mark’s alarm suddenly goes off and Mark curses under his breath. Jaebum peels his eyes open in question, and Mark shrugs an apology as he shuts off the insistent ringing, “I have class in ten minutes. Sorry about that.”

Jaebum nods in understanding and Mark turns to gather his things. As Mark is dusting off his pants, about to leave, Jaebum calls out, “Hey, Mark?”

Mark doesn’t respond, just looks over his shoulder, waiting for Jaebum to continue.

“I know we didn’t talk much, but it was nice meeting you.”

Mark mirrors the smile Jaebum is directing at him and says, “You too.”

When Mark walks away, he discovers that he’s kind of glad his safe haven now has Im Jaebum in it.

 

 

They meet every Tuesday and Thursday after that. It is, of course, not planned out beforehand. It’s just the way their schedules work that the two of them cross paths underneath the cherry tree Tuesday afternoons and Thursday mid-mornings. The first few times are similar to their initial meeting; they don’t talk much, but neither of them cares. It’s not that they aren’t curious about the other person’s life because they are. It’s just that the peacefulness is soothing and neither of them wants to break that serenity.

It changes three weeks into the semester, when Jaebum angrily storms up to the tree and all but chucks his bag against the trunk. Mark could feel the displeasure rolling off of Jaebum in waves before he even heard the stomp of Jaebum’s footsteps and the sound of his bag hitting wood. Cautiously, Mark glances up and pulls an earbud out. Jaebum’s panting slightly and Mark isn’t sure if it’s because he ran to get to the tree or if it’s because Jaebum just had a screaming match with someone. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows are furrowed, and his mouth is set in a deep frown.

Normally, if Mark bumped into one of his acquaintances this furious, he wouldn’t say anything. But this time with Jaebum, it’s different. For one, Jaebum knew that Mark would be at the tree, just like he has been for the past three weeks. If Jaebum didn’t want Mark to know and didn’t want Mark to ask, he could’ve just not come. Mark is also incredibly worried. Sure, they haven’t spoken much and don’t really know anything about each other, but Mark feels close to Jaebum somehow (and later he will realize that their quiet moments together were far more intimate than many of the conversations Mark has had with his closest friends). He’s never seen Jaebum this distraught before and he hates the sight.

Mark stops his music completely, pockets his phone and earbuds, and asks, “Jaebum, what’s wrong?”

Jaebum doesn’t answer immediately, but stiffly walks over and sits down next to Mark. He draws his knees up close to his chest and curls his arms around the top of his knees, his hands balled in tight fists. Mark doesn’t say anything as Jaebum drops his forehead onto his forearms, but Mark’s lips turn down in concern. He doesn’t know what Jaebum’s like when he’s angry, so Mark doesn’t want to do anything that will make Jaebum even more upset. He thinks, in time, he’ll learn to navigate Jaebum’s temper, but for right now, he waits until Jaebum’s fingers unfurl to ask, “Are you okay? I know we don’t know each other very well, but you can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t judge.”

And when Jaebum finally turns towards Mark to speak, out tumble his struggles for that day—a missed wake-up alarm after a near all-nighter, a spilled cup of coffee on a white shirt, a missing report when he swore he had shoved it in his bag, and a horrendous group project meeting with “idiot hyungs” who sat around on their asses goofing off while Jaebum did all the work, tried to get everyone back on track, and couldn’t even say anything because they were older than him. While Mark still isn’t quite used to the age hierarchy yet, anyone with half a brain cell in university (the number is not as high as you might think) can understand the trials and tribulations of a shitty project group, only exacerbated by a horrible morning.

Mark listens in silence. He can’t offer much in the way of advice, but sympathy and empathy he can do. He thinks that’s all Jaebum needed, anyways, after Jaebum finishes the recount of his gloriously crap day with his chest heaving up and down but his eyes brighter than before.

They talk for a while after that, finally beginning to learn more about each other, like what their majors are, where they’re from, and each other’s phone numbers.

When Mark’s alarm blares this time, neither of them is surprised. But Jaebum apologizes, “I’m sorry for going off like that earlier. You probably weren’t expecting it, but I was just so annoyed and needed to vent to someone.”

“It’s okay,” Mark responds, voice warm and eye-smile even warmer, “it was kind of nice, actually. I’m glad to lend an ear. Besides, I finally got to know you better, so there’s that.”

Jaebum beams, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mark answers, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later! Text me or something!”

And as Mark waves goodbye, something warm blossoms in his chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked this prologue! i can’t guarantee how quickly i’ll update this (especially considering i literally started this fic in july but got so busy with work and school that i haven't really been able to work on it at all), but i wanted to get this little prologue out first!!
> 
> the official chapters will be much longer than this was (or at least i planned them to be) so forgive me for being slow :S
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated! feel free to reach out on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3) (@rewindmp3) ^^


	2. beginning of the end

Mark’s been under the cherry blossom tree for around 15 minutes now. A pale pink baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes, blocking out the afternoon sun rays, and some upbeat Pharrell plays softly from the headphones lodged over Mark’s ears. It’s a little bit chilly, so Mark tugs his turtleneck higher and pulls his sleeves over his hands to protect them from the breeze.

Jaebum had texted Mark to meet him here, apparently with some big news that he wanted to tell Mark in person. Mark appreciates the sentiment of meeting under _their_ tree for important moments in their lives, but if Jaebum makes him wait for another 15 minutes, Mark thinks he might have to find a new best friend.

Mark doesn’t mind waiting, not _really_ , because he loves this spot and has spent the time alternating between shutting his eyes for a few minutes and playing idly with his phone, but it’s one of the colder days in the transition period from autumn to winter, where the leaves have finished falling and the wind turns biting, and Mark is kind of going to turn into a popsicle. The bomber jacket he threw on over his turtleneck isn’t quite thick enough to combat the cold.

Another five minutes pass and Mark is truly starting to get worried now. Jaebum still hasn’t responded to his last “ _Where tf are you lol_ ” text and they haven’t seen each other in a few days because of midterms and it’s not like Jaebum to be late, especially when he’s the one asking Mark to meet him somewhere. He’s about to pull out his phone to call Jaebum, when he sees his best friend’s long coat flapping wildly as Jaebum runs up the hill.

Relief crashes over Mark that Jaebum’s alright and not dead in a ditch somewhere. As Jaebum approaches, Mark can tell that he’s practically glowing. Jaebum’s got a huge smile plastered on his face, the one where all his teeth show and his eyes disappear (although Jaebum’s eyes are hidden under his damn bucket hat, anyways, even if it _is_ the tiger-patterned one that Mark bought for him back in LA) and Mark can’t help but smile back, seeing his friend so happy. He decides not to pay attention to the slight flutter in the general area of his heart at seeing Jaebum so bright, made even brighter by the sun.

“Okay, you look really happy right now, so I’ll save reaming you out for making me wait in the cold for 20 minutes to ask: why does it look like you just got approval from administration to let Nora live in the dorms with you?” Mark teases once Jaebum comes to a halt underneath the tree.

“Mark, I did it! I finally did it!” Jaebum all but yells, clutching Mark’s shoulders and shaking him a little bit. Mark pays no attention to the jittery feeling in his stomach when the smell of Jaebum’s body wash cuts through the crisp scent of cold, October air.

“Wait, did you actually apply to have Nora live with you? I was just kidding when I-”

“No, no, no. I finally asked him out! I confessed to Park Jinyoung today!”

Jaebum is laughing now, almost like he can’t even believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but Mark feels needles pricking at his lungs and loses his breath for a moment, like he’s been sucker-punched in the stomach and had the wind knocked out of him. His face contorts in pain briefly as Jaebum’s eyes close in glee before he manages a smile again. It’s not hard, when sheer ecstasy seems to ooze out of Jaebum’s pores.

“Oh my goodness!” Mark exclaims, “It’s about fucking time!”

And it honestly has been a while since Jaebum has started talking about Park Jinyoung. Now, Mark has never met Jinyoung before, but he’s heard all about the serious, raven-haired boy in Jaebum's History of Western Filmography class last semester with surprising mischief dancing in his eyes, a witty tongue to match, and a pettiness level that rivals Jackson’s.

Mark can tell Jaebum is about to spill the entire story, but seriously, it’s fucking _cold_ outside, so before Jaebum can say another word, Mark starts heading down the hill, grabbing hold of Jaebum’s wrist and tugging him along.

“You’re telling me everything over some nice, _warm_ beverages at the café and, yes, you are paying for my drink for making me wait so damn long.”

Jaebum doesn’t protest.

 

 

Once they reach the café, Jaebum heads to the line while Mark leaves him with a smirk and a wink (because Jaebum is buying Mark’s hot chocolate with _extra_ whipped cream) to go get a table. He picks a spot by the window in the back corner, quiet enough so that they can talk easily, but not tucked so far away from the rest of the café-goers that they feel trapped or secluded in a small bubble. Mark lets the grin slip off his face as he sits there by himself, lost in thought but not really thinking of anything at all.

Naturally, it seems, his eyes drift towards where Jaebum is standing in line, head tilted back, scrutinizing the menu as if he’ll get anything other than an Americano with a double-shot of espresso. He watches the broad expanse of Jaebum’s back move forward towards the cash register and can imagine the polite smile Jaebum aims at the cashier before placing his order. Mark sees the girl blush at Jaebum before relaying the order to the baristas and chuckles to himself. He turns his gaze towards the park across the street where a dog is playing catch with its owner. He feels his lips upturning again as the dog races after the tennis ball, wondering how old the dog is and why he feels so apprehensive about this upcoming conversation he’s about to have with Jaebum.

“Hello? Earth to Mark?”

Mark’s head snaps back to see Jaebum’s face adorned with a teasing grin and his mug of hot chocolate already placed in front of him. He takes a long sip, letting the heat and sugar warm his insides, and Jaebum remarks, “You’ve got a smile on your face. Thinking of anyone special?”

Mark almost chokes at that and puts his mug down with a sharp glare.

“There was a dog playing fetch in the park.”

“Should’ve guessed,” Jaebum laughs as he plucks a napkin from the dispenser. He’s reaching his arm out towards Mark’s face and Mark jerks back, confused.

“Wha-”

“You’ve got whipped cream all over your face. C’mere.” Jaebum’s still laughing.

“Shut up,” Mark grumbles, flushing in embarrassment. But he lets Jaebum wipe the white moustache from his upper lip, turning a blind eye to the way his heartbeat quickens (it’s just the embarrassment, okay?), before demanding, “Now, tell me what happened with Jinyoung. Everything, from the start” like the good best friend he is.

 

 

So Jaebum starts from the very beginning. Most of this information Mark already knows, like how Jaebum and Jinyoung didn’t really begin talking until the end of last semester, when they were grouped together for the final project and presentation with three other, apparently, incompetent assholes. They spent most of the time working together, making sure their group didn’t fail and during this time, they became pretty close friends. At this point, Mark already had an inkling that Jaebum liked or might like Jinyoung, especially from the way Jaebum constantly lauded Jinyoung as “the only one he could count on” and “his saving grace.” Jaebum, on the other hand, has always been a bit stupid about things like _feelings_.

Then it was summer break and even though they didn’t see each other every other day during class and every weekend to work on their project, they hung out once in a while and texted nonstop. It was over the summer when Jaebum got it through his dense head that he just might have a crush on Jinyoung, after he realized that he looked forward to Jinyoung’s messages with more anticipation than to anyone else’s and felt like something was missing if they didn’t talk a lot that day.

Mark was the first person he called, when it was ass-o’clock in the morning in LA, voice sounding incredibly panicked through the phone and through Mark’s sleep-riddled brain. It took three separate tries for Mark to understand what the hell Jaebum was saying, each unsuccessful attempt punctuated by Mark pleading, “Dude, _slow down_. I have no idea what you’re saying! _Breathe_.”

And when Jaebum finally said his piece without having a mini-meltdown in the middle, Mark was quiet. Only for a second, though, before he burst out laughing, “Is that it? I thought someone had _died_! You sounded so freaked out, Jesus Christ, I was worried for a minute there.”

“What do you mean ‘ _Is that it?_ ’? What am I going to do?” Jaebum whines across the line.

“Are you kidding me?” Mark shoots back, incredulous, “Just ask him out!”

Jaebum explodes in protest, rambling about how Jinyoung couldn’t possibly like him and how he doesn’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship. 9580 kilometers away, Mark rolls his eyes. From then, until now, it had been two and a half months of random calls when Jaebum didn’t know what to say or how to act around Jinyoung and Mark trying to help Jaebum build his confidence (“You’re a lyricist, composer, photographer, sick b-boy dancer, and soon to be film producer! Stop selling yourself short! I don’t care if you think he’s some literary mastermind or acting genius!”) and assuage his fears that Jinyoung would hate him and never talk to him again (“If he’s as understanding as you say he is and your friendship is solid, this won’t be the end of anything. Yeah, it might be awkward for a while if he doesn’t feel the same way, but one, he probably does, and two, it’ll be fine eventually.”).

Of course, Jaebum doesn’t know Mark’s side of this particular story. Doesn’t know how Mark’s chest twinges unpleasantly every time their topic of conversation turns to Jinyoung because Mark hates when Jaebum solemnly speaks ill of himself like he does when he’s convincing himself that confessing to Jinyoung would be a horrible idea. Doesn’t know about the relief that washes over Mark when Jaebum changes topics again to something about _their_ friendship instead. Doesn’t know how, in that pause when Mark was registering what Jaebum had just (coherently) told him during their phone call, he felt his heart drop.

Mark’s not stupid. He knows what all of these emotions mean, or what they point to at least. But Mark is also a simple man. He can be impulsive at times, kind of like his decision to study abroad in the first place, but for the most part, he hates change. He doesn’t want to give this feeling words because it would make them too real, more tangible than what they are right now: a hazy set of reactions that Mark doesn’t want to examine further because he knows it’d change _everything_.

The irony isn’t lost on Mark that here he is advising Jaebum to just take the leap of faith with his crush, while Mark himself was and is hesitant to come to terms with how he feels. At any rate, it’s too late now, so Mark’s official unofficial plan of just ignoring whatever these feelings are until they fade away and vanish remains in place. Besides, his best friend needs him right now. Mark can’t let his own muddled up emotions get in the way.

 

 

Anyways, the part of this story that Mark isn’t yet aware of is how exactly Jaebum went about confessing his feelings to Jinyoung and asking him out. Mark leans a little bit more forward in his seat, props his elbow on the table, and rests his chin on his open palm while Jaebum speaks.

“I didn’t really plan for it to happen, y’know. We actually crossed paths coincidentally. I was on my way to meet you at the tree and Jinyoung was on his way to class. We greeted each other and he smiled at me and I asked him if he wanted to hang out some time and his eyes went all wrinkly and he said, ‘Sure, Jaebum. Sounds good.’ and starting walking away. But, I don’t know, something just came over me? So I called his name and followed him and when he turned back to look at me, I said, ‘I meant on a date. Will you go on a date with me?’”

Mark giggles. That’s so _Jaebum_ , to be blunt and straightforward without any sort of preamble or _context_ at all.

“He looked confused for a second and I realized I got the order of everything all wrong,” Jaebum laughs at himself, “because people are supposed to admit to liking their crush in the first place before asking them out or anything. Then I explained how I’ve liked him for a while and I stuttered like crazy but it turned out okay because Jinyoung started blushing and after I was finished he just went, ‘Oh.’ I was worried for a second because that’s all he said but then a smile started growing on his face, so just to be sure, I asked again, ‘So, will you go on a date with me?’ I was honestly so nervous, like, about-to-collapse-because-my-legs-were-shaking-nervous, but then he repeated, ‘Sure, Jaebum. Sounds good.’”

Mark is positive Jaebum’s cheeks will hurt with how much he’s beaming right now. Mark’s cheeks hurt just _looking_ at Jaebum, but Mark is grinning too.

“I told him I’d text him, and then I ran over to meet you. And now you’re all caught up!”

Drinking the last of his hot chocolate, Mark sits back properly in his chair. The drink has gone cold by now, but Mark is warm, so warm, seeing Jaebum happy. After putting his mug back on the table, Mark slow claps, part in mockery (because that’s what best friends are for) and part in genuine congratulations. Jaebum lifts the giant mug to hide his face in shyness, finally drinking his Americano.

“Absolutely adorable. I’ll be sure to include this in my best man speech at the wedding,” Mark teases, smirk carved into his face and eyes shining with mirth. It’s Jaebum’s turn to choke on his drink as he splutters into his coffee and Mark bursts into a loud peal of laughter.

After he calms down, Mark’s eyes lose their playfulness and he says, “Seriously, though, I’m really excited for you, Jaebum. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

Jaebum doesn’t voice a reply; he smiles in thanks, gratitude stamped clearly across his face, and that’s enough.

It’s more than enough; it’s too much. Mark turns to stare out of the window again, the annoying pin-prick ache at his lungs back with every thud of his stupid, complicated heart. It’s selfish of him to feel this way, he knows: envious (of a boy he’s never even met) and disappointed (heartbroken? Mark doesn’t want that to be what he feels because the strength of the word implies something that scares him).

The wind has picked up and the drooping branches of the weeping willow tree in the park sway helplessly in the gusts of air. It’s kind of like how Mark feels right now: helpless. Mark has always prided himself on the control he has over his own life. He knows how to work hard to get what he wants, and when things aren’t going his way, he can usually change his circumstances through sheer force of will and determination.

But his feelings over Jaebum? He has absolutely no control over them.

He’s told himself time and time again that it's hopeless, that he shouldn't feel this way because it would jeopardize their friendship, that Jaebum is clearly gone for Park Jinyoung so Mark should just let his goddamn feelings go, but no matter how hard he tries, what he feels doesn’t go away. It’s like having a splinter rooted deeply into his finger, too deep to be able to remove properly and it _hurts_ every time he has to use it, except his finger is his heart and he feels the pang of pain with every beat.

It’s petty of him, but sometimes Mark wonders what would’ve happened if _he_ had been in that class with Jaebum, if Jaebum would be lauding _him_ as his savior in a group project, if Jaebum would have eventually fallen for _him_ instead of Jinyoung. Sometimes, he longs for the time when their conversations never moved to Jinyoung at all, when they talked about mundane, boring topics like extracurriculars and lofty, exciting topics like their aspirations. These thoughts are never intentional; they’re just another aspect of Mark’s helplessness. He can’t help but think these things and when he catches himself, he is disgusted at himself for them. Mark has always hated envy as an emotion and thought it to be the ugliest, most dangerous thing to feel and he despises it most within himself.

So to preserve his own sanity, he finds himself steering their conversations away from Jinyoung. Like now, for instance, Mark racks his brain for something to dispel his discomfort.

“Wait, all of this happened as you were on your way to meet me at the tree,” he ultimately questions, “so what were you supposed _actually_ supposed to tell me when we met?”

Jaebum frowns slightly for a moment as he thinks (it’s more like a pout and Mark’s heart _melts_ ). His expression clears with an “Ahh!” and Jaebum continues, “I got my senior thesis project approved!”

“The art exhibit one?”

“Yeah! Well, more like a combination of everything I like. What I proposed was renting out one of the gallery spaces on campus and having a progression from more traditional art to digital stuff, so from some of my sketches and paintings, then mixing that with my photography, then just photography, then that short film I’ve been working on as a side project. And you know that film is about dance, so I was debating having a stage, too, as another extension, but then I ended up thinking that would detract from everything else and my advisor agreed, so I’m just going to do a film about dance, highlighting the way the body moves, probably? I’m not too sure about it yet, and I don’t know if I want to make it more personal or do a bunch of people performing different styles of dance and showcasing the way their bodies move. But yeah, that’s the gist of it!”

Mark grins as Jaebum finally stops to breathe. _This_ is the Jaebum Mark wishes he saw all the time: passionate and full of confidence and brimming with ideas about the things he cares about, rather than the one who second guesses his abilities and self worth.

Jaebum, smiling sheepishly, meets Mark’s eyes and asks, “Thoughts?”

Whenever Jaebum asks him for his input about his projects, Mark feels a rush a flattery and appreciation. Mark’s area of study (which involves sitting in a chair for hours on end, crunching numbers and building reports when he isn’t presenting to teachers and, hopefully as soon as he graduates, clients) is probably the furthest you can get from Jaebum’s, but Jaebum still values Mark enough to ask for his opinions. Jaebum often absorbs Mark’s suggestions as part of his project, too, and Mark can’t help but feel thankful that Jaebum is giving him this creative outlet, something that he’s been missing ever since leaving the relatively carefree days of high school and being shoved into a quantitative major he knows his parents want him to complete.

It’s a minute or two later before Mark finally speaks. Jaebum doesn’t look bothered at all by the silence, unlike the majority of the people Mark speaks to, who get anxious or impatient with him when he’s just gathering his thoughts. He’s trying to envision what he thinks Jaebum’s final installation would look like in his head, trying to imagine how visitors would navigate it, trying to pick which of the gallery locations that Jaebum has dragged him to would be best for this sort of project, trying to imagine what people who don’t know Jaebum or his story at all would feel looking at all of his hard work, or if they’d feel anything at all, and that’s when Mark figures out what to say.

“I’m glad you decided not to do the live performance because I kind of agree and think it’d be a little bit too much. People get overwhelmed easily, and you already have three mediums to present, so I think it was smart to cut the fourth. Not that you’re completely axing it, since you’re including it in the video,” Mark considers before continuing, “Speaking of, I know you’re debating whether to focus on the form of the dancers or making it more personal, but why not both? So much of art is looking at pretty things, interesting things, and trying to figure out the emotional response they elicit. You like dancing not only because you can express yourself when you can’t otherwise, but also because when you watch other people do it, they make you feel something you didn’t think you could, right? So have both things in the video!”

Mark watches Jaebum’s face, looking for a reaction, and he can tell Jaebum is processing everything Mark has said, attempting to execute the entirety of the project within his head in the span of a minute, just to see if he can. Jaebum chews his lip nervously, “I was thinking that too, but….” He trails off.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mark questions, nudging Jaebum’s calf with his foot when he doesn’t continue.

“I don’t know, I really want to make that concept my film, but do you think I can do it? It’s so much to try to convey in such a short amount of time and I’m not sure if I even have the capability to make people _feel_ anything at all with what I do, let alone try to convey my entire life story intertwined with it, and I just… I don’t know.”

Something that Mark will never understand is how Jaebum doesn’t see how great he is at what he does. He’s so meticulous in every step of his process—whether that means practicing the same move for days to get the angles just right, restarting a canvas a dozen times because he didn’t like the way his mixed paint looked on paper instead of on his palette, reshooting a scene from a slightly different perspective to showcase his actors more, or debating between two different color balance settings on a photo for _hours_ because “if it has more gold tones, the photo looks more luxe, but if it has more red tones, it feels more vibrant, and I don’t know which one I prefer”—he can’t help but produce something utterly perfect. How does Jaebum not see that about himself?

“Listen, Jaebum. I know it seems daunting, but I think the fact that you care so much about both the project itself and the subject matter will make it a lot easier than you think to make something that’s beautiful to look at and touching to think about at the same time. I have full confidence in you and your abilities, even if you don’t just yet. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

At that, Jaebum beams.

 

 

When Mark gets back to his apartment from the café, he nearly goes into cardiac arrest.

“How the _fuck_ did you get in here, Gaga? You don’t even have a key! Jesus fucking Christ!” Mark wheezes after managing to stifle what would have been a very unfortunate screech.

Jackson is lounging on Mark’s sofa as if he owns the place, looking thoroughly amused and holding a mug of steaming hot green tea in hand. He stretches his legs lazily, hoists himself up to stand, and answers, “Your doorman knows who I am and you told me where you keep your spare, duh. I was bored and wanted to come chill after class, but you weren’t here and I decided to wait.”

Mark, heartbeat now returning to a normal pace, makes a sound of acknowledgement as he drops his bags on the kitchen table, setting the kettle on the stove and grabbing some hot cocoa powder, instant coffee, and a mug. He dumps the packet of hot cocoa powder in the mug and pours instant coffee granules over the powder until he’s satisfied. The water doesn’t take too long to boil, still slightly hot from when Jackson made himself tea a few minutes ago. Jackson, with poorly disguised disgust painted all over his face, watches Mark pour the hot water into his mug, stirring in hazelnut syrup and milk as well.

“Don’t you know how shit that is for your health? Literally everything you put in that cup is gonna kill you one day,” Jackson nags, and all Mark does is smirk while taking a long sip.

“Whatever, get diabetes, see if I care,” Jackson huffs.

Mark barks out a laugh and then Jackson launches into a recount of his day, as he always does. Mark nods and makes remarks in all of the right places, half-listening and half working on an assignment.

(When they first became friends, Mark, ever the good listener, paid the utmost attention to Jackson’s daily ramblings. But then he began to realize that Jackson mostly said the same thing and just wanted an open ear—someone who would react the way he wanted them too without roasting him or teasing him for anything that happened during his day, like Bambam and Yugyeom do. So Jackson doesn’t get offended that he doesn’t have Mark’s undivided attention, just appreciates the fact that he can talk for as long as he wants while knowing that Mark is still there and listening. Mark likes that he doesn’t have to do work in complete and utter silence and that they are comfortable enough around each other to just be.)

“Oh yeah,” Jackson says after his ramblings have died down, “why weren’t you here when I came? It was a complete break from your if-it’s-not-class-or-work-or-mandatory-then-I’m-at-home schedule. Very unlike you, Mr. Tuan.”

“Ah, I was with Jaebum,” Mark answers distractedly, trying to remember how the fuck a Poisson distribution is supposed to work and why his homework is asking for it when he barely remembers learning the concept to begin with.

“Oh? What were you guys talking about for so long?”

“He finally confessed to Park Jinyoung,” Mark responded, ignoring the way it hurt to force the words out and how he could feel his lips tugging into a deeper frown (it’s because of the difficult math question, he tells himself). His head is still bent over his papers, so he doesn’t see the way Jackson’s eyebrow quirks up as he studies Mark’s face.

“And how do you feel about that?” Jackson asks cautiously.

There is no hesitation when Mark replies, “I’m happy for him. If he’s happy, then I’m happy.”

Jackson hums to show that he’s heard Mark’s response, but there’s something else there, something like concern (maybe even pity?) that makes Mark look up from his work. He discovers that he’s right, when he meets Jackson’s eyes. It’s slightly more than pity, though. It’s the look of someone who knows something that you don’t and they want to tell you, shake you and scream about how stupid you’re being. The only reason why Mark even knows that look specifically is because it’s the look he and Jackson shot at Bambam and Yugyeom every day for a solid five weeks as the two worried to their hyungs about realizing they were in love with their best friend and didn’t know what to do about it.

Mark narrows his eyes. “What, Jackson?”

Jackson has the audacity to look offended. “What? Nothing! I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah, but you _want_ to.”

Jackson sighs, “Just don’t get hurt, Mark. Look out for yourself.”

Mark scoffs as Jackson puts his mug in the sink and retreats to the bathroom, but as soon as Jackson disappears from view, he mutters to himself, “Can’t you see I’m trying?”

 

 

Wednesdays for Mark are busy. He has the earliest start to his week and it isn’t even because of class. He has a nasty internship that requires him to wake up at 6:00am in the morning, get dressed in a suit, and trudge towards the underground. 45 minutes later, he’s sitting in a freezing office doing a mind-numbing job under a boss he kind of hates. His first class is a few hours later, with just enough time in between to grab a much needed cup of coffee. His friend Kang Younghyun (Brian, really) is in his first class, and, god bless his heart, brings Mark an energy bar or two to eat. His classes don’t end until 6:45pm and by then he’s tired and cranky and really not in the mood for socializing.

Luckily for Mark, he has annoying friends who love him to death and insist on making sure he’s eating properly, especially during his worst day of the week.

Enter: one Kim Yugyeom.

One of the only advantages of being an American international student in Korea is that it is incredibly easy to become an English teaching assistant (and get paid). Even though Mark isn’t a humanities student, because he is fluent in English, the department was willing to take him on as a TA for one of the introductory courses, which is how he met Yugyeom.

Yugyeom would religiously drop by Mark’s office hours, especially right before big essays were due. Through a combination of Mark helping Yugyeom through one of his more frustrating classes of first year in university, mutual interests, Yugyeom’s general disregard for respecting any sort of age hierarchy, and Mark’s unfamiliarity with such age structure, the two became close friends.

Despite the fact that Yugyeom antagonizes every single person he knows, he is admittedly much easier on Mark. In uncomfortable or new situations, he’ll latch onto Mark because he knows he can trust his hyung. Mark does the same with Yugyeom, even though Yugyeom is younger, because there are some aspects of Korean culture, both social-interaction-wise and vocabulary-wise, that Mark still doesn’t quite understand. It’s also nice to be relied on and needed, which is what Mark feels whenever Yugyeom comes to him asking for advice about classes or friends or life in general.

So, Yugyeom makes it his personal mission to get dinner in the dining halls with Mark every shitty Wednesday in order to “cheer his favorite hyung up” and to make sure Mark actually ingests something other than energy bars and coffee that day (all without spending money!).

It is the Wednesday after Mark grabs coffee with Jaebum when he learns what exactly Jaebum has in mind for the videography part of his senior thesis.

“Hyung, why did you quit martial arts tricking again?” Yugyeom asks after a brief lull in conversation as he gulps down chocolate milk.

“I just didn’t really have time anymore…. Plus, my parents were getting kind of concerned about how dangerous the tricks were becoming and wanted me to stop. I feel like you should know this, though,” Mark laughs, but it’s somewhat solemn, not really that happy at all.

“Just wanted to make sure it’s not like you stopped because you suddenly realized you hated it or got injured and physically can’t do the tricks anymore, is all.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Yugyeom’s eyes widen comically, like he said something he seriously wasn’t supposed to have mentioned. Mark honestly wouldn’t have thought much of the question had he not seen Yugyeom’s reaction, but now he raises his eyebrow in question. Despite how much mischief Yugyeom gets into and no matter how poorly he appears to treat his hyungs, Yugyeom is just a soft-hearted, innocent kid who hates pranks and sucks at keeping secrets.

This fact is evident upon Yugyeom immediately trying to backtrack. His voice climbs about half an octave as he splutters, “I- I mean! It’s not like I’m asking because anybody wants you to do martial arts again! Haha!”

“Yugyeom,” Mark snorts, putting his fork down, “just tell me what’s going on. We both know you’re shit at lying.”

A heavy sigh.

“Jaebum-hyung may or may not have asked me to double check with you for something he’s working on…” Yugyeom mumbles, basically talking to his rice bowl with his eyes hidden behind too-long bangs.

Comprehension clicks in Mark’s brain once the words process and he curses, “That fucker.”

Detecting minimal hints of malice, Yugyeom lifts his head, smile sheepish, “Go easy on him, hyung. And I, personally, think it’s a great idea!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gyeom,” Mark grimaces.

“Anytime.”

 

 

“Jaebum, you’ve officially lost it. You’ve gone batshit crazy.” Mark shakes his head, both at the sheer idiocy of what Jaebum has just proposed to him and to get rid of some stray snowflakes that have fallen into his hair. He hadn’t expected it to start snowing. He walks with a frostbitten nose, a jacket without a hood, and no scarf next to an appropriately bundled up Jaebum from the tree to their favorite dinner spot near campus.

Jaebum is staring at the snow falling from Mark’s hair, brushing away what Mark hasn’t managed to shake off.

“Are you sure you don’t want my scarf or hat or something? You look like Rudolph.” Jaebum asks in concern.

“You know, you’ve asked this already,” Mark chuckles, “and we’re almost there, anyways. It’s fine.”

Jaebum shoves his hands back in his pockets, then resumes their previous conversation. He whines, “Why won’t you be part of my senior thesis? I thought you were supposed to be my best friend and support me through all my decisions!”

 _“I’m not cute,” my ass_ , Mark thinks to himself.

Out loud, Mark exclaims, “Yeah, but not _stupid_ ones! I don’t even dance!”

The sound of light, tinkling bells fills the air as Jaebum wrenches open the door to the restaurant, signalling their arrival. They usually come at around the same time, so the maitre d knows who they are and smiles at them, grabbing two menus and bringing them to their usual table (a booth right under a TV screen).

They thank the maitre d for the menus and take a cursory glance through their options. They don’t get the same thing every time they come here—they aren’t _those_ people, who take forever staring at a menu and end up getting the same thing they always do—and while they know the menu well enough to remember what they like, having it there to look at helps when they’re craving something new. It’s not busy tonight, so their waitress comes quickly to take their orders (both have opted for soup dishes with how frigidly cold it’s becoming outside as the seasons change) and they resume their conversation as soon as she leaves.

“I’ve seen you doing your martial arts tricking before and it looks stunning!”

“Can’t you just get Jackson to do it or something? I’m literally going to make a fool of myself! Yeah, I’ll flip around once or twice for fun, but I haven’t done proper martial arts tricking with choreography like you want me to do in years!”

Jaebum vigorously shakes his head at Mark’s suggestion.

“Jackson’s great and all, but his style of tricking is completely different from yours. The way he does his tricks…. It’s like he wants you to know exactly how difficult it is. All of his landings, especially, hit the ground hard, so you can even _hear_ the effort that goes into each trick. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you... you look so graceful and weightless when you do it, and it looks effortless, as easy as breathing. It’s beautiful.”

Their food comes, hiding Mark’s face flushing crimson at the compliments. Jaebum doesn’t give out praise very easily and Mark is surprised his friend has thought so highly of his tricking skills, after a few random flips here and there when he was in a good mood. That’s the main reason why Mark is so hesitant about agreeing. Of course he wants to help Jaebum through his senior thesis in any way that he can, but participating in the video? He’d probably ruin the integrity of the entire thing, especially because he knows the other dancers Jaebum’s recruited to be in the film so far have poured their blood, sweat, and tears into dance. They all love it and are dedicated to it with a passion Mark isn’t even sure he’s capable of having at all. How is he supposed to be on par with that?

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jaebum,” Mark declares again, after thanking their waitress for bringing their food.

It goes untouched as Jaebum presses on, “Please, Mark? You only have to be in it for a few seconds! You can do the tricks you’re most comfortable with and I can help choreograph a few steps just to transition in between! Yugyeom can help too, you know he’d jump at the chance and he already knows I want you to be in the video, anyways.”

Mark’s always had a hard time saying no to the people he cares about and he can feel his resolve to absolutely not participate in the film wavering as Jaebum pleads with him. But he knows it won’t be as easy or as smooth as it will be with the other dancers, who already have their own choreography and who actually know what the hell they’re doing.

“I don’t know…. I feel like I’m gonna mess up and slow your entire process down. God, why do you want me to do this so badly?” Mark groans.

Jaebum, not hearing a flat-out refusal this time, perks up.

“You’d be great at it! You pick up whatever you want so quickly and then you become infinitely better at it than everyone else! Remember when I taught you billards and now I can never beat you? It’ll be like that! It’ll be so fun, Mark, please? For me?” Jaebum pouts and Mark’s hammering heart and red-tipped ears honestly can’t resist, no matter how much his brain is telling him that this will turn out to be a disaster.

“Fine.”

Jaebum cheers and fist pumps the air and had this restaurant been as full, they surely would’ve been kicked out for disturbing everyone’s dinner.

“When I royally fuck up,” Mark says after Jaebum calms down, “just remember: you brought this upon yourself and it’s your own damn fault that you didn’t realize I’d suck so much.”

All Jaebum does is grin, “Let’s eat!”

 

 

They start talking about it again once they’ve finished eating and are walking back towards their apartments.

“Yugyeom and I will get the choreo down by tonight and then you can start tomorrow, yeah?”

“You were planning on me saying yes all along, weren’t you,” Mark states flatly. It’s barely a question and Jaebum’s answering smile is somehow both smug and apologetic at the same time.

Mark rolls his eyes and they continue walking in silence. The autumn leaves crackle under their shoes with every step, the only other sound in the air besides crickets chirping. They’re in a college town and it _is_ a week night, after all. Most of their fellow students are holed away in one of the libraries or in their own rooms, working (procrastinating) on assignments and losing themselves in the dull, repetitive waves of college life. Both Mark and Jaebum are prone to staying in their apartments, but it’s refreshing—necessary, actually—to break out of the sometimes toxic campus bubble, even if it’s only a few blocks for an hour or two.

It’s calm and peaceful until Mark remembers, “Oh yeah, when’s your date with Jinyoung?” because he cares about Jaebum’s life and apparently hates his own at the same time.

“Saturday,” Jaebum answers. Mark can tell he’s nervous by the way he blinks his eyes, hard and slow as if to bar himself from the outside world, so he can focus on what’s happening inside his head.

“What do you have planned?” Mark asks because, again, it’s like he hates himself or something.

“Ah, I actually haven’t figured that out yet,” Jaebum admits. “I was planning on just walking by the river after eating lunch because it’s one of my favorite places and we can just talk more, but I don’t know if he’ll find that too boring and think that I don’t care or….”

Jaebum doesn’t explicitly ask, but his question of “What the hell should I do?” hangs heavily in the air.

Mark remembers the first time Jaebum took him to the river. Mark didn’t really think much of it when Jaebum invited him, other than the fact that there seemed to be notes of hesitancy and apprehension in Jaebum’s voice as he asked. Mark’s gone to the river a time or two on a run or hanging out with his own group of friends, as do a lot of university students. To him, it was just another day spent in Jaebum’s company.

But when they got there, Mark could tell that this place meant something special to Jaebum.

It would be incorrect and inaccurate to say that Jaebum was like a completely different person. Sure, Mark had realized by then that Jaebum alternates between being chic and childish at the drop of a hat, but this change was nothing like that.

It was in the way Jaebum held himself, the way his shoulders seemed to relax and his movements were less controlled, the way the guards in his eyes seemed to fall and the tenseness in his smile disappeared. It was in the lightness of Jaebum’s laughter and the looseness of the words he spoke. It was the freedom in Jaebum’s being that made Mark understand how special the river was to his friend.

Not everyone gets to see this Jaebum, this carefree and easygoing Jaebum, Mark knows. Only the truly privileged.

“You should take him to the river,” Mark affirms. There’s a pang in his chest when the words come out, but it’s nothing, he tells himself. Merely the cold, biting air filling his lungs. That’s all.

“Take him to the river,” Mark continues, “then see if he wants to do anything else. Is he a big holiday person? It’s Halloween soon so maybe you guys can go to a pumpkin patch or a haunted house. You don’t scare easily; it’d be perfect if he does.”

Mark’s wearing a playfully suggestive smirk that earns him a punch in the shoulder from a blushing Jaebum.

By this point, they’ve already reached Mark’s apartment building. Usually, Jaebum would walk with Mark through the lobby, to the elevators, up to floor 7, and ungracefully throw himself onto the couch after Mark unlocks the door, but tonight, he has to go back to his own place, change into dance clothes, and meet Yugyeom at their favorite studio on campus.

Mark opens the door to the building and greets the doorman, Jaebum one step behind him. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet, which wouldn’t necessarily cause Mark to be uncharacteristically talkative, but it seems like Jaebum needs the reassurance right now.

“Hey,” Mark says as Jaebum waits with him for the elevator, “don’t worry about the date, yeah? He already likes you. You’ll blow him away.”

Jaebum smiles in gratitude, “Thanks,” just as the elevator dings and the doors part. There are a lot of unspoken words wrapped up in the simple thank you, but Mark gets it. He understands, so there’s nothing more to be said and that’s something Jaebum gets too.

Mark dips into the elevator quickly to press the door open button to give them time to hug goodbye. Mark waves Jaebum off when they part and, through the slowly closing elevator doors, watches Jaebum walk away, looking nervous but so incredibly excited.

And Mark? Mark’s chest still aches.

 

 

Friday rolls around and after finishing all his classes for the day, Mark finds himself changing from his black, ripped skinny jeans to loose joggers. He leaves the worn, grey short sleeve on, but exchanges the jean jacket and red, plaid button down he’d been wearing during the day for a hoodie. He grabs the work out bag he’d packed before leaving for classes that day, then heads out of his apartment, instead of burrowing under the inviting covers of his bed for his customary post-class nap.

By the time he gets there, Jaebum and Yugyeom are already covered in a sheen of sweat. They’d finished classes earlier than he did and no doubt spent the extra time waiting for him having another dance battle. How they even decide who wins, with no other people in the room to act as judges, Mark has no idea.

Since they aren’t in the midst of dancing, they actually notice Mark walk in without him having to shut off the music to announce his presence. Yugyeom perks up from where he was slouched against the mirror gulping down a bottle of water and Jaebum’s face brightens in lieu of greeting. Mark’s been in this room enough times waiting for either one or both of his friends to know where the couch is where their bags (and usually his person) are left while they’re dancing.

Mark kind of regrets agreeing because as soon as he lifts his head after dropping his bag on the floor, he’s greeted with two Chesire cat smirks and, thus, immediately begins to fear for his well-being.

About an hour later, Mark’s intuition is proven to be true.

“You guys fucking lied to me,” he pants when Jaebum has called it for the night, “this is way longer than a few seconds."

It’s not that what they’re asking him to do is hard, per se. He’s seen the choreography Jaebum and Yugyeom execute during their dance showcases and what they’ve put together for him is nowhere near that level of difficulty. It’s just _different_.

Memorizing choreography should sort of be like memorizing the steps to a math problem. You figure out each bit one by one and the order of the steps as you go, then put them all together for a bigger picture, to solve a larger, more nuanced problem. But at least with math, there comes a point in time when you can consider yourself finished. When you understand how the problem works and how the steps work together and why the hell it is that you’re doing what you’re doing, there’s not much more for you to do. With dance, especially with the perfectionism Jaebum and Yugyeom have, you can repeat the same step what feels like 100 times and still not be done. The timing can be more precise or arm angle can be better or the emotion can be more vivid—there always seems to be some sort of adjustment that needs to be made and it’s sort of driving Mark insane.

It’s nice, too, though, seeing both Jaebum and Yugyeom in their element. Being taught by them is completely different from merely watching them dance. Mark doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yugyeom this serious in his entire life. Sure, while Mark was tutoring him, Yugyeom would be concentrated on fixing his mistakes and learning more about the English language, but because there was an exorbitant amount of pressure on him to get his grade up, he always seemed to operate with an underlying torrent of sheer, unadulterated panic.

Yugyeom is both earnest and lighthearted. He stops the music approximately every five seconds to fix mistakes, but he’ll do so with a laugh at his hyung’s expense. Mark would classify Yugyeom’s teaching method as teaching through doing: when the music stops and Yugyeom wants to fix something, he’ll stand in front of the mirror doing the moves himself, asking Mark to mimic him to the best of his ability. Of course, he describes what it is that’s different about how he’s dancing versus how Mark was dancing, but for the most part, Yugyeom wants Mark to figure it out by watching the way he dances.

Jaebum’s teaching method, on the other hand, Mark would classify as teaching through showing: when he stops the music, the first thing he does is walk over and adjust Mark’s position. He’ll tap at certain joints to have Mark bend or straighten them more, knock his foot against Mark’s to change his stance, and pull at Mark’s fingers so they look how Jaebum wants them to look. Only when that positioning's correct will Jaebum then proceed to walk through the steps himself.

Mark’s rapid heartbeat has everything to do with how hard he’s been dancing, and nothing to do with the fact that throughout the entire rehearsal, Jaebum has been eyeing him with an intensity that Mark isn’t used to. In all fairness, Jaebum warned him about this beforehand, saying that he’d need to pay extra attention in order to figure out at which angles he would want to shoot, but it still freaks Mark out. It would feel like predator and prey, except Mark doesn’t feel _scared_ —he knows Jaebum would never hurt him—just incredibly apprehensive and nervous, for reasons he can’t quite explain.

“Hello? Earth to Mark?”

A ring-clad hand fills Mark’s vision and he’s broken out of his reverie to see Jaebum and Yugyeom both rolling their eyes at him.

“Sorry, what?” Mark asks, slightly embarrassed.

“I _said_ ,” Jaebum grumbles, fake annoyance coloring his voice, “that I’m gonna head out first. What were you even thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Mark shrugs.

“You say that every time you space out, hyung!” comes Yugyeom’s protest, “You can’t actually be thinking about nothing every time!”

“Yeah, honestly,” Jaebum agrees.

He’s about to open his mouth and say something again, but then, Mark flings a water bottle in the general area of his head, half yelling, “Go already! Don’t worry about what’s happening inside my head when you have a date to prepare yourself for! Geez!”

With that, Jaebum heads out of the studio, but not before chucking the water bottle back at Mark’s stomach and grumbling about abusive best friends.

When Mark turns his attention away from Jaebum’s retreating figure, there’s a look of bewilderment painted across Yugyeom’s face.

“Why do you look so confused, Gyeommie?”

“Jaebum-hyung has a date?” Yugyeom’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “With who?”

“Ah, he’s someone Jaebum met during class last semester. His name is Park Jinyoung.”

“Oh....” and the perplexed look still has yet to leave Yugyeom’s face.

“Why do you still look confused, Gyeom-ah?” Mark laughs to ease some of the tension because, seriously, why is Yugyeom thinking so hard about this?

“Nothing… I just thought Jaebum-hyung liked y-....” Yugyeom’s expression clears, “You know what, never mind. Are you finished packing? Let’s leave. I’m tired.”

“You’re weird,” Mark comments as he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks towards the door.

“Not as weird as Bammie,” Yugyeom corrects, “and at least my jokes aren’t as lame as yours, hyung.”

Before Mark has the chance to kick his shin, Yugyeom has already sprinted ahead, cackling.

 

 

There is obnoxious pounding on Mark’s front door the next morning and he’s about to tell whoever’s knocking to _shut the fuck up_ and _give him a minute, he’s coming_ when it stops.

He opens the door to see Yugyeom with a hand around one of Bambam’s thin wrists, looking like he’s about to tell his boyfriend off.

Mark sighs.

“I don’t remember inviting Bambam over,” he mutters as he retreats back into his apartment.

“Sucks to SUCK,” Bambam shouts, following Mark inside.

“I told him we were supposed to hang out before dance practice today and he wanted to come,” Yugyeom explains as he shuts the door behind him. “Sorry, hyung.”

The last bit is tacked on as an afterthought. Mark knows Yugyeom really isn’t sorry at all and says as much when he brings his work from his bedroom into the living room, where Bambam and Yugyeom have already started unloading papers and writing implements from their backpacks.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Yugyeom smirks. Mark resists the urge to punch him.

The next two hours are spent in relative harmony, excluding the random outbursts Bambam will make, Yugyeom getting excited about whatever dumb thing Bambam’s done, and Mark shutting them both up with threats to kick them out of his apartment. Mark, they knew, would actually do it. They’ve seen him do it to Jackson before, when he got too excited about a new health craze and wouldn’t stop talking about it, so much so that Mark was unable to concentrate. Mark thinks he’s trained Bambam and Yugyeom well—operant conditioning, if Mark remembers correctly.

See, it’s a system he’s developed over his years at college, both the work schedule thing and the training his friends thing. For the work schedule thing, Mark decidedly doesn’t go out on Fridays. He takes Fridays to sleep early, to recover from his week of classes and the general need to interact with people he would prefer not to interact with. He wakes up (comparatively) early and then just… works. It’s a far cry from what he usually does during the week, which is to procrastinate; he’s not perfect, after all. But he doesn’t like the time-crunch that happens when Sunday becomes his work day, like the rest of university students in general, so it becomes Saturday. And then he’ll go out. Maybe. Crowds aren’t really his cup of tea.

Which is precisely why, when Bambam has his fifth random outburst of the hour, Mark glares at him and all but growls, “If you do not keep quiet for the next half hour, I will throw my fucking laptop at you.”

Yugyeom looks on, wide-eyed and kind of scared because Bambam has settled down instantly, without Mark needing to issue any further warnings.

“You wouldn’t really do that, hyung…. Would you?” Yugyeom whispers.

“I mean… it wouldn’t be the first time,” Bambam murmurs back.

Mark doesn’t speak, but his smirk is more than a little evil.

Here’s the thing: for all that he acts like he does, Mark doesn’t _actually_ hate Bambam. He loves Bambam like a little brother and would _fight_ anyone who spoke to Bambam the same way he did. But the thing with little brothers (with younger siblings in general, really) is that they’re often quite annoying. Bambam is, Mark would say and Bambam himself would verify, more annoying than most (crazy might be the better adjective), so Mark has to be firmer than usual. Which relates to the training his friends thing. Mark is a pretty passive person, easy going and quiet. However, there are some aspects of his life, like his work schedule and also his general competitiveness, where he will not yield. His friends don’t routinely complain about his stubbornness and sternness for nothing.

Anyways, long story short, Mark’s threats work like a charm. The only sounds in his apartment for the next half hour are the scratches of pencil against paper and the clicks of keys as people type.

Until, regrettably, Mark’s phone starts to ring loud enough to be heard over the music playing through his headphones. With a sigh, Mark pauses his work and his music, walking out of the living room and into his bedroom where his phone is currently charging on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

It’s Jaebum. He’s nervous, is what Mark gathers when words start tumbling out of his mouth, chasing each other one after another like raindrops down a car window during a storm. Mark listens, carefully, patiently, but there’s an ache in his chest again he attributes to hearing Jaebum think poorly of himself again and a slight discomfort in his throat, probably from how little he was wearing on the walk back to his apartment last night and the abrupt transition from being overheated to chilled to the bone.

When it sounds as if Jaebum’s finished, Mark finally speaks.

“I swear to god, Jaebum, don’t make me give you this pep talk again,” but the exasperation is feigned. He hears Jaebum make weak noises of protest. His heart melts. He continues, “Worst-case scenario, he doesn’t like you as much as you like him, which would make him a certifiable idiot. And, regardless, you shouldn’t be letting someone else’s opinion of you dictate your own self-esteem. Nobody is worth that. Best-case scenario, you guys live happily ever after. Either way, you’re still going to be Im Jaebum and you’re still going to be an incredible human being. God, I sound so fucking cheesy. Look at what you’re making me do right now.”

Mark hears Jaebum laugh through the phone and he smiles.

“Good, you’re all cheered up. I don’t know why I’m always the one reminding you, but go get ready. Your date is in 15 minutes.”

Mark hangs up after hearing an affirmative from Jaebum (and a thank you). He puts his phone back on his nightstand and falls backwards onto his bed, kind of drained. The sounds of Bambam and Yugyeom talking with each other drift over from the other room. Mark can barely make out what they’re saying. The walls of his apartment are thin; Bambam and Yugyeom together are loud, sometimes too loud. They must be trying their best to whisper. He uses this as an opportunity to close his eyes for a few seconds and breathe his thoughts away.

He grabs his phone from his nightstand and his gym bag from his closet and walks out of his room.

Yugyeom and Bambam look up immediately when Mark re-enters the living room and whatever conversation they were having abruptly stops. They can tell Mark is in a worse mood than before he took the phone call and Mark can tell they were probably talking about him, otherwise they wouldn’t have shut up so quickly. All three are at a weird impasse: to ask the other party what happened, or not to ask?

“C’mon, Gyeom, let’s go practice,” Mark finally declares, breaking the silence. The “if you don’t ask, I won’t either” hangs in the air. When he turns his back, Bambam and Yugyeom exchange worried looks, but decide to leave Mark be for now.

A few minutes later, they’ve packed their bags and obediently wait for Mark as he locks the door.

 

 

Bambam, after checking his phone calendar and realizing that he had less than two days to finish a design project he hadn’t even started, opted not to accompany them to Mark’s dance practice.

Which leaves Mark and Yugyeom, as was originally intended. Although, Mark doesn’t know if he would prefer having a hyper-energetic Bambam here to ease the tension because Yugyeom very clearly wants to know what’s bothering his hyung and Mark doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t even know if he knows how to.

Practice is still fun, though, and the exercise releases enough endorphins so that Mark no longer feels stressed at all.

They get back to Mark’s apartment falling over in laughter because Yugyeom had tripped and nearly face-planted when he exited the elevator and Mark was the kind of friend who derived maybe too much joy from his friends’ embarrassment before helping them. Mark was also the kind of friend with an infectious laugh, so rather than be mad, Yugyeom could only join in with red cheeks.

Yugyeom’s in and out of the shower in 20 minutes. The residual steam that mixes with Mark’s sweat when he first steps into his bathroom feels vaguely disgusting, but as soon as he turns the water on, the droplets running through his hair and down his body feel fantastic. Even so, Mark never spends more than 10 minutes showering. Sometimes, he kind of wishes he could be the person who spends half an hour in the shower, contemplating life, but he’s always valued the refreshing, post-shower cleanliness more than the shower itself.

When Mark is back in the living room, he sees Yugyeom on a FaceTime call with Bambam, who’s in one of the textile rooms trying to balance a few yards of fabric in one hand while he holds his phone with the other.

“How’s the project going, Bammie?” Mark asks as he peers over Yugyeom’s shoulder.

“Oh, it’s going, alright,” Bambam mutters, “Why the fuck did I do this to myself. This is some Project Runway shit.” His face disappears for a second as he pushes open a door and then he’s propping his phone up against something and spreading cloth over a work station.

So the next few hours are spent with Bambam on video call while Mark and Yugyeom do their own assignments in the quiet of Mark’s apartment. Whenever Bambam starts cursing up a storm, they offer as many comforting words as they can. Before they realize, it’s way past the appropriate time for dinner. They order enough delivery for four because they’re starving and also want to drop off food for Bambam, despite the fact that he explicitly stated he wouldn’t let himself stop for anything until he finished the pair of pants he was working on.

The worry that Mark feels shines out of Yugyeom’s eyes, so when Mark and Yugyeom have moved away from Yugyeom’s phone to throw out garbage and wash dishes, Mark quietly tells Yugyeom to go surprise Bambam and bring him some food. Yugyeom makes some vague excuse as to why he needs to hang up the video call—normally, Bambam would care more about the validity of the excuse, but right now, all they get is a half-hearted grunt in affirmation before Yugyeom presses the end button—and the next second, he’s bundling up, telling Mark he’ll be back soon.

Mark uses this as a chance to curl up on the couch and let his eyes fall shut. It’s been a good day, a productive day, but there’s a headache throbbing behind Mark’s left eyeball he wishes would leave him alone.

He’s startled from sleep 15 minutes later in a daze. He wasn’t even aware that he had drifted off.

The generic iPhone ringtone blasts throughout his currently empty apartment. So that’s what woke him up. Groggily, he answers, “Hello?”

It’s Jaebum again, only this time, he doesn’t sound nervous. He sounds positively giddy and Mark finds it hilarious because the only times he’s heard Jaebum get this excited are when either food or his cats are involved. And, most recently, Jinyoung.

Apparently, Jinyoung has just left Jaebum’s dorm and Jaebum wants to recount their date. Mark finds it touching that he was the first person Jaebum called. There’s another emotion there, too, one that isn’t as pleasant. Mark doesn’t delve into it too much.

Jaebum and Jinyoung had spent the entire afternoon and the evening until this point together. Jaebum had done exactly as Mark suggested and started the date off with a quiet picnic at the river. After they had finished their meal, they walked along the riverbank and Jinyoung had forgotten gloves, which made his hands cold. He kept rubbing at them and breathing on them to keep them warm, so Jaebum took one of Jinyoung’s hands and shoved their entwined fingers into his pocket.

It’s around this time when Yugyeom comes back, and Mark finally stands up from where he melted himself into the couch in order to open the door for his friend. He raises an eyebrow at Yugyeom in lieu of asking, “Why are you back so early?” and Yugyeom, noticing Mark’s phone raised to his ear, mouths, “Bambam kicked me out” in response, complete with an eye roll.

He tunes back into the rather one-sided conversation he’d been having with Jaebum to hear about how they went to a haunted house, in the spirit of Halloween. Jinyoung admitted to not getting scared easily before they even entered, but there was wicked glint in his eyes when he said he wanted to go anyways, to get inspiration for new ways to scare his friend, Youngjae.

Mark almost laughs. Almost because when he opens his mouth, it feels like something is stuck in his esophagus and suddenly, his chest starts to hurt instead of his head.

As Jaebum continues to speak, Mark feels the discomfort lodge itself in his throat. He suppresses his urge to cough because he doesn’t want to interrupt Jaebum’s recount of the date with Jinyoung or make his friend worry. He starts to pace back and forth and there must be something written on his face because Yugyeom completely stops what he’s doing and stares, looking more and more anxious by the minute.

The conversation finally comes to an end, with promises to hang out soon, and Jaebum’s barely finished saying, “Bye, see you soon!” before Mark’s jamming at his phone screen to end the call.

“You look like you’re going to be sick, hyung,” Yugyeom notes, sounding rather distressed.

Except the thing is, Mark doesn’t feel like he’s going to be sick. He can feel something itching his throat, though, and it’s weird because every time he tries to cough, something tries to make its way out of his mouth. This usually only happens when Mark needs to throw up, which always starts with an intense pain in his stomach, but it’s his _chest_ that hurts and why does his chest hurt? And how come no matter how hard he tries to swallow it down, he _can’t_?

And then Mark breaks into a sprint towards the bathroom, not able to fight the itchiness in his throat any longer. As soon as he sees Mark turn, Yugyeom jolts up, following close behind.

Mark collapses against the toilet seat, closes his eyes, and coughs.

With every cough, Mark can feel something leave his mouth, can feel something soft against his tongue, can feel Yugyeom rubbing circles on his back, until it all stops.

Mark is winded. It feels like he’s coughed up a lung and there’s sweat collecting at his temples, but everything’s just so _weird_ , because there’s no taste of vomit coating his mouth and Mark doesn’t know if he should be grateful or _what_ -

“H- Hyung…,” he hears Yugyeom stutter. The comforting circles are gone and there’s just the feeling of Yugyeom’s palm on his back and why does it feel like Yugyeom’s shaking?

He lifts his head from where he had rested it in the crook of his elbow, against the toilet seat, turning to look at Yugyeom.

“What?”

There’s fear and panic etched into every crease of Yugyeom’s face and while Mark appreciates the concern, it’s not like he hasn’t thrown up before.

But then, Yugyeom lifts his trembling hand from Mark’s back to point towards the toilet, so Mark follows the direction of his friend’s finger, and _oh_.

 

Flower petals, pale pink cherry blossoms, are floating in the toilet water, where vomit should be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guys wanna know how slowly i write … i legit started this chapter in mid-july (i had already finished the prologue by the time i started writing the chapter lol) but have had very little time to work on it but at least now it’s finally up!!
> 
> lmk what you guys think is gonna happen next!! or what you want to happen next hehe
> 
> you can also reach me on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3) (@rewindmp3) if you have any questions or just wanna yell at me lmaoo


	3. half a beginning, half an end

_Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 花吐病 (Chinese); 하나하키병 (Korean))_

_A disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love, typically accompanied by sharp chest pains. There are three ways for the disease to progress:_

  1. _The person who the victim loves returns their affections, thus making the love no longer unrequited. The victim is then cured of the disease._
  2. _The flowers are surgically removed, along with the victim’s feelings of love as well as all memories of the person the victim loves._
  3. _The victim's lungs get filled with the flowers and their respiratory system grows roots. They suffocate on their own blood and petals, and die._



Googling the words “coughing up flowers” was kind of weird. The number of hits that came up was weirder. The fact that everybody used this as a trope in fiction writing, but nobody seemed to have gotten this disease and needed to Google the phrase as an actual medical concern was, if not the weirdest, then definitely the most concerning.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom chokes out as he reads the last bullet, “a- are you going to die?” He sounds like he’s either on the verge of tears or already crying, but Mark wouldn’t know, eyes glued on his computer screen and body unmoving in shock.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom starts again, “who are you in love with? We should tell them; they’ll love you; who wouldn’t love you?” His voice is urgent, bordering on hysteria, but Mark is still numb.

Love? Is Mark in love with anyone?

“I… I’m not sure….” Mark manages to croak out. A lie. He has an inkling.

“You’re not sure?!” Yugyeom still sounds panicked and Mark still hasn’t turned around to look at his friend, but he’s certain it’s hysteria now.

Love. The thing is, Mark thinks he knows who he loves, but he didn’t know that love is what he felt. For someone like Mark, who builds walls ten miles high and five miles thick after too many broken bonds of trust and is relatively silent to top it all off, it’s not easy to let himself love.

He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He hadn’t even realized he was _in love_ , much less that it had gotten to this extent, and yet here he is, throwing up cherry blossoms and reading that he might legitimately die.

 _Oh, Jaebum_ , Mark muses to himself, _now every time I say you’ll be the death of me, I’ll actually mean it._

 

 

Yugyeom doesn’t know. Or, at least, Mark hasn’t told him.

What he _has_ told his now incredibly overprotective, basically little brother is that he’s pretty sure he knows who his unrequited love is, but he doesn’t want to say. It’ll just add unnecessary anger to Yugyeom’s life and it’s not like he can go sit on whoever Mark loves and force reciprocation. It doesn’t work like that. Yugyeom can sense how badly Mark doesn’t want to talk about it, so he sacrifices his own desire for knowledge in favor of Mark’s comfort.

Needless to say, this disease and his silence on the person he loves poses a bit of a challenge for Mark, especially because he realizes the coughing becomes worse in Jaebum’s presence.

For dance rehearsals, he manages to keep his sessions with Jaebum and Yugyeom separate in a series of maneuvering feats that impresses even himself. He schedules group project meetings with the distinct purpose of creating unmatched schedules for the three of them (or, sometimes, makes up obligations altogether).

It’s not like either of them notices when Mark lies; it’s the heart of midterms season, so it is perfectly reasonable that, suddenly, Mark would have more things to work on. And Mark doesn’t make it a habit to lie, truly, so nobody doubts him when he says he can’t be somewhere for some reason. He’s probably the most honest of his group of friends, when he chooses to speak up. Normally, he thinks there’s no point in lying, but right now is an exception.

It’s a miracle in and of itself that Mark manages to stifle whatever coughs he has while dancing when Jaebum is there, especially considering how much he has to use his goddamn lungs. At least his part in Jaebum’s project is almost done. All that’s left at this point is for Jaebum to film him going through the choreography on a dimly-lit stage, so that just his silhouette can be seen. How he can manage to avoid Yugyeom during filming with Jaebum or if that’s even possible at all, he has no idea. But that’s a worry for another time.

Right now, Mark’s main concern is the fact that Jaebum has been pressing for him to meet Jinyoung. There are only so many times Mark can make up a random dinner with a friend Jaebum doesn’t know or a last-minute club task before Jaebum gets suspicious. It’s not that he doesn’t want to meet Jinyoung, because he does. It’s not that he sees Jinyoung as competition and, thus, dislikes him automatically, because they aren’t competitors. Mark was never even in the running and Jaebum has already chosen, after all. Mark is too honorable a person to not respect his friend’s decision.

He’s nervous because he doesn’t want to fuck up. He wants Jinyoung to like him, but he’s not exactly someone who excels at meeting new people—especially with this stupid disease. Mark isn’t sure how he’ll be able to manage meeting Jinyoung and _not_ throw up flower petals everywhere. It’s bad enough when he’s alone with Jaebum. He has no idea how adding Jinyoung to the mix will affect the flowers that crawl up his throat and the vines that wrap themselves around his lungs.

When Mark gets to the lunch place Jaebum had picked, he sees them already seated, side by side, laughing with each other. They look good together. Jinyoung is soft where Jaebum is sharp and the eye-wrinkles that appear when he laughs make Mark think of gentleness and warmth, comfort and home. Each is the other’s perfect complement, Mark can sense already. He feels another pinprick at his heart, but this time, he knows it’s not just a feeling, a pang of disappointment. It’s a combination of that and the vines of different flowers, growing around his organs causing the thorns to pierce his muscles.

He gives himself a minute to adjust to the discomfort and to allow it to fade away into the background as much as it is willing. He has to do that a lot now. On his face, he plasters a bright smile and heads towards the table.

Mark’s verdict halfway throughout the meal is that Jinyoung is amazing. He’s everything that Mark wishes he could be: confident with himself and who he is, while remaining completely humble at the same time; an amazing conversationalist; and—just as Mark thought he would be—so, so _warm_. There’s no other way to describe it. Mark doesn’t understand how someone can offer so much compassion and care that it seems almost tangible as he speaks, or even just in his glances. It takes a lot to earn that kind of emotion from Mark, and even his closest friends have a difficult time drawing it out of him. How can Jinyoung be so open with his heart? And maybe Jinyoung is faking it, but it feels so sincere that Mark doesn’t even think that can be an option. It’s like his aura wraps around Mark, cocooning him in a blanket of comfort that not even the flowers he can feel filling his lungs can break.

That is, until they part ways, with Jinyoung and Jaebum heading on another date and Mark heading back to his apartment. Mark isn’t completely successful in suppressing all of his coughs, so by the time he’s opening the door to his apartment with his right hand, his left is already full of petals.

As quickly as he can, Mark throws himself over the toilet, coughing and waiting for it to all be over.

He thought that, maybe, Jinyoung wouldn’t hurt him. Obviously not in the direct-physical-contact way or in the emotional way, but he really did enjoy spending time with Jinyoung and getting to know him outside of the stories he’s heard from Jaebum, so he hoped that maybe, just maybe, Jinyoung wouldn’t affect the disease’s progression at all.

Yet when Mark finally finishes retching a good 45 minutes later, he’s covered in a sheen of cold sweat that has soaked through the majority of his shirt and he feels more exhausted than he ever has.

Mark’s phone rings. It’s Yugyeom, calling to check up on him, as has been customary for the past week and a half, ever since they found out about _it_. Mark doesn’t ever tell Yugyeom when these things happen, but it’s like his friend has gained a sixth sense for it. This time, Mark sounds so winded that Yugyeom thinks he’s just been through a workout session at the gym or something, but, well. Yugyeom nearly throws a fit when Mark tells him that everything is under control and that there’s no need for him to come over, but Mark is adamant and Yugyeom has always had a soft spot for his hyung.

Mark hangs up the phone and surveys the damage to his bathroom.

Petals are everywhere—more than Mark has ever seen before and some even covered in blood. It would almost be pretty (like every aesthetic social media page’s dream), the petals in the toilet and spread out over the floor, if it weren’t so macabre.

The petals have been differentiating themselves, too. Yugyeom thinks it’s kind of morbid, but Mark has started a flower journal: each page has a different petal and its meaning, along with the date and approximate time he coughed them up. He has cherry blossoms, of course, for the transience of life (and also, he’s pretty sure, because it holds a special significance in his relationship with Jaebum), striped carnations for refusal, forget-me-nots for constant love, daffodils and yellow tulips for unrequited love, purple lilacs for first love, lotus flowers for rejected love.

In retrospect, it is truly kind of morbid, but maybe Mark has always been just slightly masochistic.

 

 

Scratch that, Mark is truly, 100% masochistic. It’s the only explanation for why he’s agreed to hang out with Jinyoung, one-on-one.

They had exchanged numbers after being introduced to one another, and out of the blue (at least that’s what it felt like to Mark), Jinyoung texted him wondering if they could grab a meal or coffee. Mark had asked Jaebum about it and apparently Jinyoung had said he wanted to “get to know the best friend of the guy he’s seeing better.”

(“You guys aren’t official yet?” Mark asked, half shocked, half relieved, and he almost shakes his head violently at himself for the latter half, to get rid of the thoughts, but he stops just in time. _Jaebum isn’t yours_ , he reminds himself, hiding the bitter grin attempting to make its way across his face behind a steaming bowl of soup.

Jaebum blushes crimson, “I don’t want to rush things, okay?”

Mark is proud of him for not stuttering, but still, he teases, “Ah, yes, because months and months of pining is what we consider ‘rushing things.’”

Jaebum moves to throw his chopsticks at Mark’s head, but Mark knows his friend, so before anything is flung at him, Mark’s hand is already covering Jaebum’s and they’re both laughing, so happy and carefree. That is, until, Mark feels something tickling the back of this throat and excuses himself to go to the bathroom, still laughing to hide the flash of panic.

Mark locks himself in the stall and prays that nobody knocks as he coughs up petals.

It’s relatively quick. He heaves three times, and then the itchiness quells and the vines release their vice grip around his organs. He picks up one of the stray petals from the toilet seat and stuffs it into his pocket before brushing the rest into the water and flushing. He watches the flowers swirl and swirl and swirl down the drain, almost mesmerized. When the last petal disappears, Mark wipes his sweat, splashes cold water on his face, pats the water dry, practices a composed face in the mirror, and exits the bathroom.)

Now, Mark waits in a booth at the campus café, alternating between working on an assignment and glancing at the door every time he hears the bell chime, just in case it’s Jinyoung.

Meeting at the café is smart. It’s always pretty busy and filled with chatter—if they want to talk, they can talk and nobody will bat an eyelash. But if they run out of things to say, there’s always people-watching or sipping on the drinks to explain away the awkward silence that arises when people are scrambling for new topics to discuss. Or they can just pull out some homework and work together.

When Jinyoung actually walks through the door, Mark doesn’t notice. He’s just gotten to that point in a problem where you’re _almost_ done and the only thing you want to do is finish it off.

He’s interrupted with a tap to his shoulder. Startled, Mark looks up to see a sheepish-looking Jinyoung.

“I’m not breaking your train of thought, am I?” Jinyoung asks, concerned.

Mark shakes his head, politely gesturing for Jinyoung to take the seat across from him, “Just give me two minutes—if I don’t finish this right now I probably never will. You can go ahead and order first as I wrap up?”

Jinyoung puts his coat down and walks towards the counter with a nod. Mark writes the last few lines of his proof, draws a nice box around his concluding statement, and puts his work away. He rests his head on his chin, eyes drifting towards Jinyoung. He stands with impeccable poise and posture, but his eyes are soft, informal as wrinkles appear when he smiles at the barista, whose cheeks become dusted with cherry red.

Mark offers Jinyoung a small smile when the latter returns with his drink.

“So,” he starts.

“So,” Jinyoung mimics, raising an eyebrow, wholly unimpressed and a little amused.

“Don’t give me that look! You’re the one who wanted to meet up!” Mark whines, a little in embarrassment.

Jinyoung lets out a low chuckle, re-adjusting himself in his seat with a, “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry about that. This must be kind of awkward for you, huh?”

“A little,” Mark admits, stirring his coffee idly and refusing to meet Jinyoung’s gaze.

They don’t talk for a while and it’s not entirely unbearable, but Mark wouldn’t say it was a comfortable silence either. He doesn’t really know what Jinyoung wants, after all, and he has no control over how Jinyoung wants to proceed or this situation in general. He hates it.

“Jaebum talks about you a lot, you know,” Jinyoung muses, breaking the quiet.

Mark can feel a flush rising to his cheeks. _He thinks of me?_ Out loud, he says, “Nothing bad, I hope. If it’s anything bad, whatever he says is a lie and he’s ten times worse.”

That brings forth a laugh out of Jinyoung and Mark smiles to himself, pleased.

“Nothing like that,” Jinyoung clarifies after he’s done laughing, “but sometimes when we’re doing something, he’ll suddenly go ‘Oh, Mark would like this’ or ‘Mark showed me this a while ago’ and if we go shopping, he’ll buy or stare really hard at something that I wouldn’t expect him to and if I ask him about it, he’ll say he’s thinking of getting it for you instead. He barely notices that he does it. You guys are really good friends, huh.”

 _Oh_. Mark doesn’t know him super well yet, but he thinks there’s some hesitancy in Jinyoung’s voice at the end. Jealousy? Insecurity? Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be there. So Mark tries to help.

“Ah, that last bit is probably because we’re doing a gift exchange for Christmas, and I guess I’m notoriously a little hard to shop for. I’m kind of an impulse buyer, so most of the things I want, I already have.”

Mark tries to break the tension with a soft smile that Jinyoung returns, but Mark can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s still some trepidation, some fear. He tries again.

“Jaebum talks about you all the time, too,” Mark reassures. He notices Jinyoung perk up a little bit and continues, “Wouldn’t stop pining after you when you guys first met. All he could mention was how you were his savior and the one keeping him sane and an angel sent to bring him out of that hellish group project.” _Jinyoung’s blushing now. Good, this tactic is working._ “He still talks about you constantly, but now that he’s grown a brain and confessed, he just gets nervous about whether you’ll like the dates that he plans and what you think of him and how he hopes he can become good enough for you because right now he doesn’t think he is.”

He didn’t mean to end on such a heavy note, but when he rambles he finds it difficult to control what he says, or at least sugarcoat it in some way to make the words coming out of his mouth seem warmer. But Jinyoung’s smiling a happy, content smile and his eyes look fond and Mark’s heart hurts, but that’s okay because he made someone feel better and that makes him feel marginally better as well.

They move on to talk about safer things, like what they plan on doing over the rapidly approaching end-of-semester winter break, the hellish amount of work that proceeds their freedom, the university courses they’re currently taking, and horror stories about professors and friends alike. Although they have no mutual friends besides Jaebum, it’s still funny for Mark to hear about the antics of Jinyoung’s good friend Youngjae during their mutual English class last year and he revels in telling stupid stories about Jackson being too hyper and distracting during lectures.

When they part ways, it’s after a good conversation filled with laughter and understanding. Mark feels like he’s made a new friend. But that doesn’t stop roots from clinging a little tighter as he calls out, “Hey, Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung turns his head to look at Mark, a motion to carry on speaking before they part ways.

“Please don’t break his heart.” _Only one of us should have to suffer that, and the world has already decided on me. Let’s not make it Jaebum as well. Please._

Jinyoung’s face melts in his own sort of comprehension, “I’ll try my best not to.”

 

 

Mark swings the door open to his apartment, expecting to nap for a few hours after a long day of classes and an unexpected flower-attack (that sounds lame, he knows, but that’s literally what it is and he’s too tired to think of anything else with which to refer to his episodes).

Instead, he gets Jackson Wang lounging on his sofa. Mark really needs to have a talk with his doorman about letting Jackson in, even when Mark isn’t expecting him and _especially_ when Mark isn’t there. The puppy eyes are admittedly difficult to resist, but still.

Mark’s glad he opted to toss out most of the flowers on the way over, save for one petal tucked into his jeans, otherwise that would be a lot of explaining he doesn’t really want to do.

It’s not that he and Jackson aren’t close, because they are. Jackson was the first real friend Mark made when he moved, after all, and Jackson is a great listener and advice-giver when he wants to be. It’s just that Jackson is also an incredibly busy person with a heart five sizes too big and not enough time to make sure he’s living his own life healthily; Mark doesn’t want to add anything to the mix. Also, Jackson is one of the most protective people Mark knows. He and Jaebum have never properly hung out before, so they aren’t actually friends, which just means Jackson would have even fewer qualms about potentially beating him up. People getting hurt on Mark’s behalf is not something he thinks he could stomach. He’d rather just suffer the pain himself.

The other thing about Jackson that people tend not to realize because of his hyperactive nature is that he is actually very observant. Maybe Mark needs to stop finding friends who can read into situations he doesn’t want to discuss because the first thing Jackson says when he turns around to look at Mark walking through the door is, “Are you okay?”

Mark startles. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” he asks, once he regains his composure.

“You just look a little tired. Kind of sad, too. And are you skinnier?? I didn’t think that was possible! Have you been sick?”

 _Sick doesn’t even begin to cut it_. “I guess it’s just midterms living habits finally catching up with me.” He hopes that excuse is enough for Jackson. It’s a real thing for university students—when you push yourself into operating under such high-stress conditions (like barely any sleep, high caffeine intake, poor nutritional choices, the whole works) during exam season that you somehow adjust, but once that period of your life is over and you can finally (sort of) breathe again, every bad decision about putting school over health first comes ramming into your body all at once like a freight train. So, Mark isn’t lying, not really. He’s just not saying the whole truth.

Jackson narrows his eyes, half-believing. He decides (for once) not to push it, though, and Mark is grateful.

“Well, the main reason why I came here was to ask about that,” Jackson admits. When Mark quirks an eyebrow in question, Jackson explains, “I ran into Gyeom after my class finished. He was on the phone with Bam and I heard, ‘I’m just worried about Mark-hyung…. He doesn’t look like he’s doing so great right now, I don’t know what to do.’ before I tackled him and made him drop his phone.” Jackson chuckles at the memory, but Mark’s mind is reeling. _Does Bambam know?_ “After Gyeom picked his phone back up—it’s not cracked or anything, by the way; his phone case saved it—I asked him what that was about. He looked a little panicked then stuttered that it was post-midterms stress, but I didn’t really believe him so I came to check on you. And now, here we are.”

Well, at least Jackson doesn’t know. Mark can deal with Yugyeom potentially telling Bambam later.

“Thanks for checking up on me, Jacks. I appreciate it, even if you scare me half to death every time I see you in my apartment with no warning.”

Jackson barks out a full-bodied laugh at that, and Mark cracks a smile.

“Anytime, man.”

“Anyways, I was gonna take a nap, but if you’re here, did you want to hang out or something? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Jackson’s face softens, but he shakes his head, “I actually have practice in about,” he glances at his watch, “25 minutes. If I want to grab my fencing bag and make it to the gym in time, I need to get going, like, two minutes ago. We’ll catch up soon, yeah?”

Mark echoes his agreement as Jackson pats his shoulder and heads out the door.

A jarring silence fills Mark’s apartment without Jackson’s presence. He stares longingly in the direction of his bedroom, but the possibility of someone else knowing weighs heavily on Mark’s mind. With a sigh, he reaches into his jacket pocket for his phone and calls Yugyeom.

After the third ring, Yugyeom’s voice crackles to life over the receiver, “Hello?”

Mark gets straight to the point, “Did you tell Bambam about my disease?”

“No, hyung, I swear! I haven’t said anything because you didn’t want me to!” The answer is immediate, and that’s how Mark knows Yugyeom isn’t lying. Because Yugyeom is a terrible liar and would’ve stuttered or paused or _something_ if he were trying to hide the truth. Mark exhales in relief. He wasn’t even aware that he was holding his breath to begin with.

“Ah, okay then. I believe you, Gyeommie.”

“Did something happen? Did Bam ask you about it?”

“No, no, it’s just that Jackson was at my place after my classes ended and asked me if I was okay because apparently he ran into you on the phone with Bam worrying about me and.... yeah. I wanted to double check.”

“I told him it was midterms stress…. I said you were getting sicker and thinner because you weren’t eating or sleeping properly, which isn’t a lie, hyung.” Yugyeom pauses. His voice seems miniscule as he admits, “I am _really_ worried about you, Mark-hyung. Maybe it seems worse to me because I know the real reason, but it looks like you’re wilting away and I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.” Yugyeom’s voice shrinks again, “Do you… do you think you should tell other people? Do think it would help? Like Jackson or Bambam or Jae-”

“No,” Mark abruptly interrupts, “no, I just…. I can’t. I don’t want them to know. I don’t want anybody to know unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“You don’t think it’d be better to have more people know and help you?

“I don’t know,” Mark confesses and _God_ , he hates how small Yugyeom sounds right now, how it sounds like his friend is three seconds away from crying and it’s all Mark’s fault, “but I don’t know if I can deal with everyone knowing and everyone checking up on me and asking me if I’m okay when I can’t even answer that. And I know it’s hard for you, to be the only one worrying about me and having nobody else to share the burden with, and I apologize for putting you through all of this mess, but I don’t want anyone else to know. At least not right now.”

Mark can hear Yugyeom sniffling and his heart cracks.

“If that’s what you want,” Mark hears Yugyeom sigh.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, hyung.”

Mark’s head is throbbing, his eyes are sore, and his heart positively aches. He really needs a nap.

“I’m gonna go now. Please try to get some rest. And Gyeom?” Mark waits until he hears a “Yeah?” from the other end of the line, “I’m so sorry.”

With that, Mark ends the call and makes a beeline towards his room. He burrows under the covers and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes to try to massage some of the pain away. He hopes sleep will help him forget, if just for a little bit.

 

 

Forgetting is difficult when the disease has somehow made it so that even his dreams are plagued with petals.

His dreams (nightmares?) are all more or less the same. He starts off alone, standing in an expansive field of flowers on a bright, sunny day. The warmth on his skin is welcomed; the field seems to stretch for miles and he feels so at peace. The birds are chirping and it reminds him of days playing in the park in LA with his siblings, before he got old enough to be tethered down by worries and responsibilities. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a figure approaching. It seems to come out of nowhere, since the field is flat with nothing but flowers, so maybe Mark should be scared, but that’s not what he feels. He feels happy and anticipatory, like he’s been waiting for this person to come. The figure gets closer and Mark can finally make out facial features. A sharp nose, cat-like eyes, and ah—it’s Jaebum. As he walks, he opens his arms wide for a hug, so Mark giddily mirrors his actions. Just as he’s about to take a step forward, he feels something wind its way around his ankles, stopping him. He looks down to see vines curling their way around his legs, thorns and cherry blossoms miraculously sprouting from the vines, piercing and tickling his skin. He looks up in panic, back towards Jaebum, whose arms are now held limp at his sides. Jaebum’s face is expressionless. There’s no fear there, or concern. He just stares. Clouds begin to gather and suddenly the sun disappears. It’s gray and pouring and the vines are entangling themselves all along Mark’s body. They grow so quickly that they lift him up towards the sky, towards the angry claps of thunder. He’s shivering and soaking wet and Jaebum’s head tilts upwards to follow Mark’s ascent to the clouds. Other than that, Jaebum does nothing. He is completely and utterly devoid of emotion. Mark can tell even as Jaebum’s figure grows smaller and Mark climbs higher. He tries to move, but the more he struggles, the tighter the vines wrap themselves around him. The vines reach past his chest and wrap themselves like a boa constrictor around his neck. He can feel himself choking, gasping for air. He can’t bring his arms up to grasp at the vines because they’re pinned to his sides. He’s suffocating. As he fights for his last breath, a bolt of lightning strikes him, and he jolts awake from his sleep.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, chest heaving up and down as he blinks himself back into reality. He’s not in a field in the middle of nowhere; he’s at home, in bed, covers pooled around his waist. His blackout curtains are drawn and Jaebum is nowhere in sight. Mark is very much alive.

His forehead burns and his throat hurts and his pulse is racing and he can hear his blood pounding in his ears, but there are no petals littered around him. He’s fine.

Instead of flopping back down on his bed to sleep some more, Mark opts to take a cold shower, to calm his burning skin and wash away the perspiration.

He doesn’t go back to sleep. But he’s fine.

 

 

Mark doesn’t like studying in libraries. While he is known to appreciate silence, the hush of a library on a university campus is too oppressive. Stress reverberates in the air, without anyone breathing a word. It's the worst.

Instead, when Mark chooses to study outside the comfort of his apartment, he goes to cafés, where he can find privacy and quiet in the chaos. He lets the sound of everyone’s chatter wash over him, like a comforting lull, or tunes them out with headphones or earbuds as he works. Nobody will stare at him angrily for breaking the silence if he gets frustrated and curses or if he fails to stifle a cough or a sneeze. Nobody cares if he mutters to himself under his breath as he tries to figure out a problem or groans when he realizes he needs to start over. Plus, there’s the guarantee of coffee and food, which some of the libraries don’t allow you to have.

It sucks that there are only like three cafés close to campus, but he’ll take what he can get. He’s been to each of them enough times for the ever-rotating staff to know who he is and what he usually orders. His friends, for some godforsaken reason, all prefer holing up in libraries (“It’s about the _illusion_ of doing work,” Jackson said once, with Bambam nodding furiously behind him) and usually don’t join him.

So, Mark is surprised when he hears the chime of bells by the door and looks up to see Yugyeom entering, making a beeline towards Mark’s table.

He dumps his bag onto the floor and drapes his coat over the back of the seat opposite Mark without saying anything, then heads towards the counter to order. Mark blinks once, twice, then shrugs in his head, returning his attention towards what he was doing before Yugyeom came.

The clink of a mug on a coaster being placed on the table alerts Mark that Yugyeom has returned with his order, but instead of saying anything, Yugyeom just pulls out his laptop and some notebook paper and begins an assignment.

It’s not like Mark minds the lack of explanation, although he was certainly expecting one. He can guess why Yugyeom’s here instead of wasting away in a library or with Bambam in a studio. After everything that happened, and now that the disease seems to be getting worse, Yugyeom has taken it upon himself to spend as much time with Mark as he thinks is necessary, even on days that aren’t Wednesdays, because he’s a good kid and cares about Mark’s well-being. It’s a little overbearing at times, if Mark’s honest, but he doesn’t complain because he knows it comes from a good place.

They work in silence for a good 45 minutes before there’s another tinkling of bells and Mark looks up briefly, planning on returning to his assignment. He’s always more productive in cafés and even more productive when a friend is there, watching him and holding him accountable.

Except Mark is surprised for the second time in the span of an hour when he sees Jinyoung pass through the door. They make eye contact and Jinyoung smiles lightly, walking to where Mark is to greet him.

Yugyeom only lifts his head when he hears Jinyoung’s simple “Hey, what’s up?” He looks confused for a minute, before Mark introduces Jinyoung as Jaebum’s boyfriend (they’d made it official a few days earlier) and calls Yugyeom his “bratty dongsaeng.” Jinyoung chuckles at Yugyeom’s responding indignation before excusing himself to get a drink. They obviously didn’t plan on meeting at the café to work together, but it’s always nice to be in the company of people you know.

When he gets back, they chat lightly, taking a break from their course load. Yugyeom is polite for all of ten minutes before his true nature reveals itself. Jinyoung handles him adeptly, and soon, they’re bickering with each other like Tom and Jerry while Mark watches on, infinitely amused by and fond of the whole thing.

They decide to calm down again after a particularly disruptive fake-argument that unsettles even the chatter and goings-on of the café. It feels comforting and Mark isn’t even the least bit uncomfortable when Yugyeom turns to him and claims, “I like Jinyoung. He seems chill” once the aforementioned person leaves them for his own dinner plans.

Mark and Yugyeom leave the café a little after that. Yugyeom’s gained a new hyung to torment and Mark’s chest doesn’t ache in the slightest. Maybe things are looking up.

 

 

 _Everything is_ awful, is the loudest thought in Mark’s head approximately two hours later. He’s in an auditorium that’s empty except for three college students and a lighting director from their university’s tech department.

There’s a single spotlight on stage, illuminating the area where Mark is currently lying spread-eagle on the floor. He knows that Yugyeom is sitting directly in front of him in the first row of seats (because that’s where he’s been for the past 30 minutes) and that Jaebum is somewhere a few feet away, staring intently at the LCD monitor of a far-too-expensive camera on wheels. _Wheels_.

The dancing isn’t what’s making this entire experience horrendous. Mark thinks he’s actually doing quite well in that regard, and the fact that Yugyeom has only shouted out comments about steps to improve two times is further evidence that dancing is indeed not the problem.

No, Mark’s problem is the man behind the camera. Every time Jaebum wants to fix something, he’ll walk up to Mark, touching his arm there, poking his ribs here, brushing his bangs away from his face, muttering instructions lowly into Mark’s ear in the essentially empty space because it’s so grand and they’re so small that it feels like they shouldn’t be speaking loudly. Mark’s heart is beating out of his chest and it isn’t from the dancing.

At least the flowers in his organs have seemed to understand that Mark needs a break because the pang in his chest isn’t from the thorns, but from having Jaebum so close, yet never close enough. Mark can tell, now. He’s beginning to understand the language of the flowers growing in his body.

Jaebum calls for a break as he reviews the clips he’s shot so far, quickly skimming through them on twice the speed. Mark takes this opportunity to hop off stage and escape the warmth of the spotlight that’s causing him to overheat. He joins Yugyeom in the auditorium seats, taking the space to Yugyeom’s left.

“You’re doing really well,” Yugyeom compliments as Mark allows his head to fall and rest against the back of the seat. It’s not the most comfortable position for his neck, but that doesn’t matter because shortly after Mark mumbles out a tired, “Thanks, Gyeom” there’s a searing pain spreading through his torso and he _lurches_ forward, collapsing in on himself.

The next moment, he can feel Yugyeom’s hand on his back and can hear the alarmed, “Hyung, are you okay?” whispered on his right. Mark makes a pained sound in the back of his throat, loud enough for Yugyeom to discern that no, Mark is not okay, but quiet enough so Jaebum, still standing on stage, can’t hear.

“Is it the flowers?” Yugyeom asks, voice urgent. Mark nods his head, too tired to make an excuse and too focused on trying to manage the pain by evening out his breaths.

“We need to get you out of-” Yugyeom begins to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of Jaebum’s voice calling out, “I think I have all the footage I need! This took so much faster than I thought it would! Mark, you’re amazing!”

Mark would feel a lot more affected by the compliment if he weren’t currently trying not to 1) throw up 2) gasp out loud as another thorn pricks his lung while he makes some indistinct sound of affirmation to let Jaebum know that he understands they’re done for the night ( _forever_ , thankfully). He vaguely registers the sounds of Jaebum unzipping the cases that hold his camera equipment and peeling back the velcro of different sections to fit all the pieces back inside. Yugyeom is asking him if he can try to stand up because he doesn’t think he can carry Mark to his apartment by himself and they still need to be outside if Yugyeom calls a car.

As Mark, still hunched over in pain, attempts to stand on shaky legs, there’s a thump signaling that Jaebum has hopped off the stage as well.

“Mark!” Jaebum shouts, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Mark finally lifts his head to be met with the eyes of his best friend, filled with panic and concern. That causes _something_ to happen inside his body and he doubles over in agony again before quickly straightening himself out.

“I think I have food poisoning,” he lies. He looks in Yugyeom’s direction to make sure the other won’t say anything that will give him away, but instead of the nervousness he expects to see on Yugyeom’s face that accompanies whenever he needs to lie, Mark sees intense concentration. Yugyeom’s eyes dart from Mark to Jaebum and just from that look, Mark can tell that he’s piecing together the puzzle, bit by bit.

“Shit, okay, let me get an Uber.”

Ten minutes later, they’re outside Mark’s apartment door. Mark has one arm slung over Yugyeom’s shoulder and the other is clutching at his stomach, even though his chest is where it hurts the most. Jaebum is following close behind, with three backpacks draped over his shoulders and his camera equipment occupying both of his hands.

Mark unlocks the door and leads Yugyeom through the threshold of his apartment, but before Jaeum can step foot inside, Mark maneuvers himself and Yugyeom around to face Jaebum and effectively stop him from entering. Jaebum looks confused, but Mark pays him absolutely no mind as he reaches for his and Yugyeom’s backpacks. Yugyeom gets the hint and removes their bags from Jaebum’s right shoulder. He leaves Mark leaning against the doorway as he goes inside to drop their stuff on Mark’s couch.

Before Jaebum can ask, Mark explains, “I know you have a movie date with Jinyoung tonight. You should go get ready.”

“But I should be here instead! You need my help; I’m sure Jinyoung would understand,” Jaebum argues back.

“It’s not like I haven’t had food poisoning before—I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. Plus, Yugyeom’s here,” and as if on cue, Yugyeom returns from the living room and slings Mark’s arm over his shoulder again, like he’s proving a point.

“ _Go_ ,” Mark urges, practically shoving Jaebum out the door. They don’t call him stubborn for nothing.

Mark appreciates the worry, he does, but everything becomes so much _worse_ when Jaebum’s there. Like, just now, when Mark’s hand reached Jaebum’s chest, the vines tightened so sharply that Mark nearly collapsed forward onto the floor, if not for Yugyeom steadying him. And now that Jaebum’s gone, the vines have loosened their vice-grip around his organs.

Yugyeom guides them as quickly as he can towards Mark’s bathroom once the door shuts. Mark drops in front of the toilet and heaves. He barely even noticed the petals working their way up his throat because the thorns hurt so much that it was all he could think about.

As he coughs, he feels not just petals this time, but whole flowers, flowers with stems, making their way across his tongue. The resulting aroma is overbearing and dizzying. Mark never really liked the smell of flowers, always crinkled his nose whenever he would step foot inside a shop for Mother’s Day or Father's Day or a family member’s birthday as he adjusted to the heavily perfumed air. It makes Mark feel even more sick and he gags on the scent. In doing so, he chokes on a something (a leaf, maybe?), which sets off another round of coughing, another round of aching lungs and bloody petals. Yugyeom rushes to pound on Mark’s back, because that’s what you usually do to help someone who’s minorly choking, but Mark doesn’t think it makes a difference at all.

He feels sweat collect at his temples and trickle down his back and his chest aches and his throat is sore and his head is spinning and he’s tired. Mark is _so tired_ as he finally stops retching and slumps on the floor.

“It’s Jaebum, isn’t it.” It’s supposed to be a question, but the way Yugyeom says it sounds like a statement and Mark is too exhausted to argue.

“Yeah. It’s Jaebum.”

 

 

Yugyeom’s attitude changes after that night.

On the surface, everything is normal. He still acts like an obnoxious little brother most of the time, whining and complaining and trying to wheedle favors out of Mark and Jaebum, then hitting them when he doesn’t get what he wants.

But Mark notices. He can tell how, if it’s the two of them together first and Jaebum joins, Yugyeom will tense up when he realizes that Jaebum is there. It’s for a split second and Mark doesn’t think Jaebum can tell, but it’s there. When the three of them are hanging out, Yugyeom will do his best to position himself in front of Mark, like a shield, or insert himself in between Mark and Jaebum, like a wall. He’s doing so much to try to protect Mark and Mark wishes that there was nothing for Yugyeom to protect him from, but there is and he’s grateful.

He wishes Yugyeom wouldn’t feel resentful or angry at Jaebum and Jinyoung, but Mark knows he does. There’s a hard glint to Yugyeom’s eyes when he teases Jaebum, now. It goes unnoticed by Jaebum because Yugyeom’s smart enough to save the looks for when Jaebum’s attention is elsewhere, but Mark sees.

He sees how Yugyeom has gotten more and more hostile towards Jinyoung. Sometimes, when he’s teasing, the words are a little too pointed and his shoves are a little too harsh, even though Mark knows Yugyeom really did like Jinyoung before. For instance, one time, when the three had found themselves in a café again, Jinyoung had asked Yugyeom to get him a cup of water because he didn’t want to break his concentration and Yugyeom had just finished an assignment. It was a reasonable request that the Yugyeom before that night wouldn’t have had a problem granting. Except this Yugyeom gave Jinyoung a cold stare before deadpanning, “Don’t you have hands, or something?” Mark had looked up in shock and Jinyoung, too, looked taken aback. Mark schooled his expression into a more neutral one, laughing slightly to break the tension. Yugyeom, perhaps realizing what he had done, also cracked a smile, but didn’t move from his seat. So Jinyoung ended up getting his own water and Yugyeom looked completely unbothered and Mark knew he needed to have a talk with his friend.

It went something like this:

“Yugyeom, I know you’re angry, but you can’t treat Jinyoung like that!” Mark exclaimed once Jinyoung left.

Yugyeom didn’t respond, but his lips turned down in a scowl. He didn’t like to be lectured, especially when he thought he was justified and Mark knew this, but felt like he was obligated to say something all the same.

“And don’t act like I haven’t noticed you getting more defiant with Jaebum. You can’t keep acting like this! It’s not fair to them!”

“They’re hurting you, hyung!” came Yugyeom’s outburst. He glanced around, realizing how loud he just was, then pressed on, “They’re killing you and I can’t stand it!”

Mark sighed, “It’s not their fault, Gyeom-ah. They don’t know. They’re nice people. They wouldn’t want this for me if they could control it.”

Yugyeom deflated, “I know. But there’s nothing else I can do besides this, to show them how angry I am and how stupid they are.”

Mark grinned at the childish behavior, but it was mirthless and regretful instead of happy.

“Is it making you feel better?” he asked.

“Truthfully? A little bit,” Yugyeom admitted.

Mark sighed heavily again, “Fine, but… just tone it down, okay? They really don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve what they’re doing to you, either,” Yugyeom grumbled under his breath before snapping his headphones over his ears, ending the conversation.

Mark breaks out of the memory when he hears his phone ringing. He checks the caller ID; if it’s someone he can ignore, he will. He needs to finish this damn project that’s worth 35% of his grade and he hasn’t been able to focus on it at all. Except when he looks at his phone, the name Im Jaebum is written across the screen, so naturally, Mark picks up. But he can’t even greet “hello” before he hears Jaebum’s voice say, “Mark?”

Mark’s heart stills and his stomach sinks to his feet when he hears his name come from Jaebum’s lips.

There’s something wrong. _Something is horribly, horribly wrong._ That’s Mark’s first thought because he’s heard Jaebum’s voice in all types of bad moods (livid, frustrated, annoyed, disappointed), but he’s _never_ heard Jaebum’s voice sound like this. It’s both choked up and airy at the same time, like there’s so much sitting on the tip of his tongue but his throat is closing up and he can’t get the words out. It makes Jaebum sound so _small_. Small and fragile. And those aren’t words Mark has ever associated with someone whose mere presence commands attention from a room and who’s inspired confidence in all of his friends even when he wasn’t confident about himself.

“I’ll be there in five,” Mark says, without Jaebum uttering another word, “Hang in there, okay? You can do it.”

He hears a shaky noise of acknowledgment before he hangs up and jams his limbs into the nearest outerwear pieces and shoes he can reach. Then, he’s sprinting out the door, letting it slam shut behind him. He doesn’t think about what might happen to him—what the flowers might do to him—if he goes and spends this time alone with Jaebum. All he cares about is finding out what on earth has happened to his best friend.

 

 

When he gets to Jaebum’s room, he steels himself before entering. He tells the flowers growing in his respiratory system to chill the fuck out, or at least not to make him choke on petals, while he talks to Jaebum. As if in protest, Mark can physically feel the roots growing in his lungs. He would glare at the stupid plant if he could, but he settles for thinking, _Honestly? This is fine. Just don’t make me fucking cough up petals._ Then, he takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door swings open immediately and Mark is met with Jaebum’s face. At first glance, he seems expressionless. He so closely resembles the uncaring, unfeeling Jaebum from Mark’s nightmares that Mark is almost terrified. Almost, because if he looks hard enough, he can see the glimmers of sadness he heard over the phone. Mark never thought he’d be so relieved to recognize someone else’s pain, especially Jaebum’s pain, but it’s so much better than what he sees when he goes to sleep that he can’t help it.

Jaebum stands there, unmoving, after Mark passes through the door. Mark ends up guiding both of them to Jaebum’s living area, sitting down on the couch and pulling Jaebum down to sit next to him.

“What happened?” Mark asks softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Nothing happens for a while. It looks like Jaebum is thinking, collecting himself before he speaks. Mark waits. He doesn’t want to push, but he’s so nervous that he’s taken to chewing on his bottom lip out of anxiety.

Finally, Jaebum tilts his head so that it rests against the back of the couch and exhales a full-body sigh.

“Jinyoung broke up with me,” Jaebum starts, voice low and stoic. Mark is stunned. Everything seemed to have been going so well just a few days ago, the last time he ran into Jinyoung. Mark doesn’t interrupt with questions, but there isn’t much for Jaebum to say. They had been studying in Jaebum’s room earlier that day when Jinyoung suddenly shut his laptop closed and said, “I don’t think we should date each other anymore, Jaebum-hyung.” Jaebum, likewise, had been stunned. Jinyoung hadn’t acted out of the ordinary in the days preceding, so there was nothing that could’ve clued Jaebum in to what was about to happen. When he asked why, apparently Jinyoung had said that, while he did like Jaebum a lot, he didn’t think that their relationship would progress much further. When pressed more as to why, he merely smiled a sad, knowing smile, said, “One day, hyung, you’ll figure it out,” packed up his stuff, and left.

Mark felt anger rise on behalf of his best friend because he knew just how much Jaebum adored Jinyoung. Why was it Jinyoung’s right to decide on behalf of two people who clearly liked each other that what they had wasn’t going to go anywhere? How could he make that decision by himself?

Mark doesn’t let his indignation show because that isn’t what Jaebum needs right now. What he needs is a friend and a distraction. So, Mark says the standard comforting phrases with as much sincerity as he can put forth, “It sucks and Jinyoung’s an idiot for deciding the fate of your relationship without at least talking to you about it first. But you are an amazing human being and he clearly doesn’t deserve you, so I say good riddance.” The words seem a little fake and plastic-y, even though he means every single one of them. At least Jaebum cracks a smile at Mark’s attempts at comforting him. Mark doesn’t know what else he can say, though, without revealing too much about how he truly feels, so instead, he deflects, “C’mon, let’s watch some mind-numbing TV until you’re tired, so you can forget about this and pass out.”

He pulls Jaebum upright from the couch, pushing him to go shower for a bit while Mark gets snacks ready. Mark doesn’t leave Jaebum’s vicinity until he hears the water running, at which point he heads to the kitchen to make some popcorn and hot chocolate.

The minute he walks away from the bathroom, Mark feels his entire chest seize up. Quite truthfully, Mark has become so accustomed to the sudden bouts of excruciating pain that he’s barely surprised anymore. He doesn’t even get sad now. The only thing Mark feels, other than the pain and vague disappointment, as he searches for a spare trash bag, is dull resignation. It’s like he doesn’t have the strength to feel any emotions that are stronger. He’s just so _tired_ and _defeated_ and has been for so long that it isn’t even jarring anymore.

When Mark finishes throwing up petals into the trash can (cyclamens again, the flowers of resignation; how fitting), his throat is raw and he can still hear the water running. He feels like he’s on autopilot as he stows the bag away in a corner he knows Jaebum never checks and makes a mental note to take the bag with him when he leaves. He opens the cupboard where he knows Jaebum keeps snacks, grabbing two packets of hot chocolate powder and one bag of popcorn.

Jaebum comes into the kitchen, towel-drying his hair, just as the kettle shrieks, signalling that the water has boiled. Mark glances up after pouring the water into two mugs full of hot chocolate powder. The smile Jaebum shoots him still looks far too downcast for Mark to be comfortable with, but at least Jaebum looks refreshed now. He doesn’t look as dead and drained as he did when Mark first walked in.

In lieu of saying anything, Mark motions towards the bowl he poured the popcorn in, asking Jaebum to take it. Mark takes a mug in each hand and—when Jaebum mimics a statue, unmoving with the bowl of popcorn in his hands and his towel draped around his shoulders—directs them to Jaebum’s bedroom. Jaebum is still a little at a loss for what to do, Mark realizes then. He’s still numb. Mark can relate.

They settle into Jaebum’s bed. It’s a tight fit. Jaebum’s pushed up against the wall and even so, Mark’s leg hangs off the side, but it’s fine because Jaebum’s pillows are fluffy and his blankets are big enough to be draped over them both. Jaebum passes Mark his laptop, so Mark puts on _The Simpsons_ because he knows it’s Jaebum’s favorite show and they watch in silence. The silence starts off heavy; as apt as they are with dealing with their emotions privately, neither are the best at talking about them out loud and expressing what they feel and Mark can guess that in this situation, it would make Jaebum more uncomfortable to talk about something he has only just started to process as opposed to saying nothing at all. As the episodes pass, Mark can feel the rumble of Jaebum’s chest as he laughs quietly to himself at certain jokes. Mark hides his pleased smile by shoving popcorn into his mouth.

He doesn’t know how many hours pass like that, but the next thing he knows, Mark feels something drop onto his shoulder. He’s amused (and so _so_ fond) to find that it’s Jaebum’s head. Jaebum’s eyes are closed and his breathing seems to be pretty heavy. He’s had an exhausting day and Mark is glad that he’s asleep. Quietly, Mark tries to remove himself from Jaebum’s bed. It proves to be rather difficult as their legs have somehow become tangled up as they watched TV. As Mark lifts the blankets off of himself and tries to leave, he feels a hand grab at his wrist.

Mark turns to see Jaebum drowsily blinking up at him.

“Can you stay with me, please?” Jaebum croaks out, barely conscious, and Mark is weak, _so weak_. There’s a pang in his chest, not from the flowers, but from the longing and want, especially with the way Jaebum looks at Mark through his lashes, lethargic and worn down and pleading.

Against his better judgement, Mark nods.

Letting out a happy hum, Jaebum lifts the covers up for Mark to come back to bed. Mark burrows under the covers, breath caught in his throat, and when Jaebum pulls Mark flush against his chest, he can only hope the other is too tired to feel the strength with which his heart is pounding.

 

 

It’s after that night that Mark has to admit something very difficult to himself.

He can’t do it anymore.

It’s not that his heart can’t do it anymore, because it can. It can keep on loving Jaebum without feelings being reciprocated because, regardless of the the pain it has caused him, loving Jaebum is one of the few things in Mark’s life that has ever truly felt _right_. It feels right to share all of the inside jokes and secret places that they do; it feels right that Mark knows how to make Jaebum smile; it feels right when Jaebum comes to him for encouragement and solace; it feels right to worry about Jaebum and think of him constantly. It even feels right to ache for him when he feels too far away.

But after that night (when Mark returned home, threw the bag of petals away, then coughed up red roses and thorny stems covered in blood and his throat was so ripped up he could neither speak nor consume anything for the next several hours without tasting iron) and the days following (when Jaebum walked around like a shell of himself, so different from when he would drown himself in work to block out his emotions like normal, and Mark couldn’t do anything to make him feel significantly better), Mark understood that Jaebum wouldn’t love him back.

Or, at least, Jaebum wouldn’t love him back before this disease would root itself into Mark’s respiratory system and kill Mark in the process.

Mark can tell from the way Jaebum has been acting that Jinyoung truly _meant_ something to him. Maybe what Jaebum felt wasn’t love yet, but it was definitely on the verge of it and Jaebum isn’t someone who would let that emotion go easily or share his heart again so quickly after having it shattered.

Mark thinks that if he were less of a coward, or if he were more noble a person, then maybe he would be okay with dying because it would prove how strong his love is and how much value he places on the memories he has with Jaebum.

But then Mark remembers his family—who love him dearly and have been nothing but supportive of him and his dreams, who cater to his every whim and fantasy if they are able, who don’t even know of what Mark is going through right now—and doesn’t think he could forgive himself for the pain of leaving their lives so suddenly. Mark remembers his friends, both back home and here in Korea, like Yugyeom and Jackson and Bambam, and even Jaebum in this case, who would have to deal with the fact that he was dead.

Rationality has always been one of Mark’s strongest characteristics, so even if he wants to be the protagonist who sacrifices himself for the sake of love, he can’t.

The first thing Mark does when he comes to the decision to get the surgery to remove the roots in his organs is not to call his family, though, despite the fact that he knows there is a whole host of issues (like insurance, finding a doctor, scheduling appointments) that he needs to get resolved. The first thing he does is tell Yugyeom over dinner.

Yugyeom looks ecstatic and Mark lets out a breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding. It’s relieving to know that someone you hold dear agrees with a decision you’re unsure about, that someone you actually care about is supporting you through a monumental life event.

That is, of course, until Yugyeom opens his mouth and rambles in excitement, “You can finally tell Jaebum then! About everything you feel towards him! Because once he pulls his head out of his ass and gets over his breakup, he can realize that he’s loved you all along and that’s honestly why Jinyoung broke up with him to begin with and it won’t matter that you’ll have forgotten after the surgery because you’ll be _alive_ and I can reintroduce you two to each other and you guys can fall in love again and everyone will finally be _happy_ ,” like the optimistic, pure person that he is.

Yugyeom’s hope-filled gaze immediately drops when he looks at the torn expression on Mark’s face after his spiel.

Because Mark doesn’t _ever_ want Jaebum to know. Mark doesn’t think Jaebum will ever see him as someone to be loved romantically and he doesn’t want to place the burden of his feelings on him. He knows Jaebum will just feel guilty about how long it’s been going on for and how severely the disease has progressed; he doesn’t want Jaebum to hate himself for something he had no control over. It’s not Jaebum’s fault he doesn’t love Mark back, after all.

The rest of the dinner is spent with Yugyeom trying to convince Mark that telling Jaebum would be the better option, but failing spectacularly because Mark has already made up his mind. He’ll just stretch the truth about some family health issue that will require him to be out of Seoul (maybe back in America or even Taiwan?) for an extended period of time. He’ll be sure to tell Jaebum after finals, right before everyone leaves for winter break because this isn’t something that should distract Jaebum from his studies. And he’ll even delete his social media accounts, too. It’s not like he uses them anyways. It’ll be a fresh start, after the new year, in the new semester. A Mark Tuan who doesn’t know Im Jaebum. The thought makes Mark’s heart wrench.

 

 

There’s nothing like the whirlwind of finals season to serve as a distraction from problems in your personal life.

Whoever thought that high-pressure, timed exams that are always worth the majority of your grade (including midterms)—where you can’t look anything up and can’t discuss anything with your peers—were accurate representations of one’s knowledge was certainly delusional. Exams only measure how well you can memorize (read: cram) a semester’s worth of key concepts and weird, one-off facts that your professor _might_ test you on. They suck the joy out of learning, because it barely even matters to employers whether you genuinely love what you’re studying if you don’t have the grade to back it up. The fact that fall semester exams are right before the holiday season also sucks. The cheery well-wishes and over-the-top decorations contrast so sharply with the exhaustion etched into the students’ faces that it would be funny if it weren’t so sad.

All in all, Mark hates finals. He holes himself up in a corner of a café as he alternates between hyper-focused resolve and mild hysteria, trying to make sense of things his professors never even mentioned during class or in lecture notes. He’s glad he called his family about the disease and thankful that they were able to work out all of the logistics before the exam period started. Although, Mark still isn’t entirely sure what he’s going to do about his personal life, but that’s something that future-Mark needs to resolve. Current-exams-Mark may as well be a machine, moving from café to exam to power-nap, back to café, then back home to sleep before starting the process all over again for another class’s exam.

By the time he gets out of his last final (a disgusting probability class with an even more nightmarish 7pm to 10pm test time), Mark wants to die a little bit. Or at least sleep forever. He hasn’t seen most of his friends in a week and a half, or whenever it was that he handed them their Christmas presents, and he’s all sorts of drained.

When he wakes up from a well-deserved, rare dreamless sleep the next morning, Mark makes a mental checklist of all the things he needs to do in the singular day he has before going back to the States for his procedure:

  * _Throw away any leftover food in the fridge so it doesn’t rot_
  * _Take out the trash_
  * _Wash the dishes and put them away_
  * _Unplug all of his electrical appliances so they don’t spontaneously combust while he’s away and set the entire apartment complex on fire_
  * _Make sure he has all of the essentials packed_
  * _Make sure Yugyeom has everything packed_ (because Yugyeom had insisted on coming and even though Mark protested, he’s relieved that Yugyeom, who’s been there for him since the beginning, insisted that he accompany Mark to LA)
  * _Tell Jaebum he’s leaving and not coming back_



That last one is something Mark had been putting off thinking about. However, now that he’s finally free from equations and quotes and facts, it crashes to the front of his mind with the force of a freight train.

He had a vague idea of what he wanted to say before exams started, but he’s going to need to come up with a detailed plan in—he checks the clock on his phone—approximately seven hours, because that’s when Jaebum wanted to meet to grab dinner and hang out before the start of winter break.

He tries to have the same sense of monotony with which he trudged through finals season while going through the chores on his list, but it’s hard when so many things seem to remind him of Jaebum.

When he rids the fridge of any spare food, he discovers that he needs to throw away a half-full carton of strawberry milk from the last time Jaebum was over. When he dumps out all of his trash cans, there’s an empty box that used to contain several rolls of camera film. Jaebum has this habit of keeping all of the yet-to-be-used rolls stored in the box they came in until he needs them. He’d gotten to the last roll and threw the box into Mark’s recycling bin. Putting away his now clean dishes, he sees the cat-patterned mug he bought on impulse at a random street fair for Jaebum to use when he came to Mark’s apartment.

Packing almost a month’s worth of clothes that he wants to bring back home is probably the hardest. While their preference for pants is extremely different (Mark prefers either skinny jeans or joggers, whereas Jaebum prefers anything overly baggy), they have very similar styles when it comes to picking out tops and outerwear. He packs away his Snoop Dogg shirt, remembering when he and Jaebum wore theirs at the same time, which caused Yugyeom to have an absolute field day making fun of them by filming them standing with Mark’s front to Jaebum’s back, as per Yugyeom’s instruction, as he walked in a circle around them, cackling. There’s the huge red Vetements hoodie as well, that was initially his, but somehow became both of theirs with how often Jaebum stole it to wear. There are other bits and pieces, too, (like their camo jackets—not the same, but incredibly similar), some of which they bought together, some of which they bought separately and laughed about together when they realized.

While he’s packing is also when his body aches the most. At least he hasn’t been coughing up flowers. It’s like the plant has somehow figured out his decision and has calmed down its torture by picking only one of the two symptoms of the disease. Maybe the plant has deemed that Mark’s been through enough and is trying to spare him some pain. Mark is oddly grateful. Sure, he can still feel the roots growing into his organs and the thorns pricking at his muscles, but retching up flowers in addition to that takes an additional emotional toll that Mark never got used to. Although, the weight of what he’s about to do presses down on him, like he’s submerged in the depths of the ocean, drowning.

With some difficulty, he finishes packing and manages a brief call to Yugyeom to make sure he has everything (It was Bambam who forgot his passport that one time, but maybe Yugyeom’s been influenced since then. It doesn’t hurt to check.) before he needs to get ready.

He doesn’t spend forever scrutinizing his outfit or fixing his hair so that it frames his face perfectly. He’s not worried about impressing Jaebum with his looks because this isn’t a date, even if they’re getting dinner and a movie. The butterflies in Mark’s stomach do not come from the good kind of anticipation where you’re excited about spending time with someone you like, but are nervous about looking foolish. They come from the overwhelming fear of losing something you hold dear, something you want to have forever.

 

 

Mark has vague memories of the barbeque they had for dinner being delicious and the movie being entertaining enough to distract him for a little bit (but that’s just Marvel for you). He honestly can’t remember specifics about most of the night, can’t remember exactly what conversations they had, but he knows they happened because Jaebum is one of the few people Mark is comfortable talking to and Jaebum would’ve said something if he noticed Mark acting a little too differently. Everything feels like its made of mist, like nothing is real or concrete, because Mark’s mind is elsewhere the entire night. Jaebum doesn’t comment on it, probably writing the spaciness off as a post-finals recovery mechanism.

When they get in Jaebum’s car to head back, Mark kind of just… shuts down. He doesn’t say a word. He stares out of the window, heart beating painfully in his chest, as he runs through the script of the web of lies he’s prepared to spin. He can’t help but wonder if he’s about to save Jaebum or break them both.

A few minutes later, Jaebum disturbs the silence by asking, “You’re quieter than usual. What are you thinking about?”

He’s genuinely asking, but he’s also giving Mark an out, a path to an inside joke, if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Which he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Nothing,” Mark mumbles and Jaebum laughs softly as he continues to drive.

The outside scenery blurs into itself so that nothing is its own distinct object. Yet the lights are still ever-changing, especially now that they’ve gotten onto the freeway, and it hurts Mark’s eyes to look at. He leans the side of his head against the cool glass and all but slumps against the door, straining against his seatbelt and letting his eyelids fall shut in the process.

Memories play against the back of his eyelids like a cheesy montage in an old romance film. Some memories are grand: their first meeting, the first time Jaebum ever really opened up to him, the first time Mark ever really opened up to Jaebum, when he convinced Jaebum to go skydiving with him. Some memories are more mundane: sitting together doing homework, going shopping and eating afterwards, giving each other advice or just enjoying a lazy afternoon under the cherry blossom tree. Some memories aren’t even memories, but are regrets of things they won’t get to do: the one that stands out the most is the fact that Mark won’t be able to see Jaebum’s final exhibit. Even though the video part had been finished before finals and Jaebum had sat Mark down to watch the end product together, the sketches and paintings and photographs and mixed media pieces won’t be finished until the end of the academic year. By then, Mark won’t know the person sitting next to him.

He risks a glance at Jaebum’s face, focused on the road.

It hurts _so much_. He closes his eyes again.

The next thing he knows, the car is slowing down and when he looks outside, he recognizes the street his apartment building is on.

Jaebum finds a parking spot right outside the entrance and when he turns his head to look at Mark after unbuckling his seat belt, Mark isn’t looking at him. He can’t bring himself to look at him.

The air feels oppressive, which isn't something Mark ever thought he would feel about being in the same space as Jaebum. He could choke on the tension if he inhaled too deeply. But then there’s a hand at the nape of his neck, warm and calloused and familiar, and the comfort he associates with the touch relaxes him just the smallest grain, even though he still wants to cry.

“Mark, are you okay?” Jaebum’s voice is so soft, so gentle and concerned, “You look really upset….”

“I…” Mark’s still not ready, but he has to. He has to say goodbye and give them some kind of closure, even if it’s fake. It feels like his heart is caught in his throat.

Jaebum gives him a reassuring squeeze, as if to say, “It’s okay. Take your time,” before moving his hand to Mark’s lower back. It’s awkward because Mark’s still melted into the passenger’s seat and Jaebum’s arm is reaching over the gear shift, but it’s what Jaebum always does when Mark’s crying and upset.

Mark’s always been strong-willed and this is something he knows he needs to do, so he forces the words out, “I’m leaving.”

The air is still between them. Outside, life moves on and crickets are chirping, but inside the car, time has frozen.

“W-What?” Jaebum stutters.

“It’s… something happened with my family. According to my parents, I need to leave South Korea to be with everyone and we’re going to have to be traveling a lot between Los Angeles and Taiwan and I… I need to go. I need to be there. It’s my family. Everything happened so fast, in the middle of finals, and I talked with the university and they’ll let me stay enrolled and take the classes I was planning on taking because of the short notice, so if you look me up in the student directory I’ll still be there, but I’m going to have to work with my professors to do everything remotely.”

The words, the _lies_ , come tumbling out, uninhibited and following the script he had in his mind to a T, but they taste bitter on his tongue and Jaebum’s sympathetic gaze, filled with nothing but understanding and concern, makes him feel so much worse.

“Oh my god, Mark…” Jaebum breathes, “I’m so sorry.”

The silence engulfs them again. What can Mark say? He can’t accept the condolences offered because none of it is really true. Sure, there’s a family issue, but it’s him. He’s the issue. And he’ll still be on campus next semester, after the procedure, but Yugyeom’s under strict instructions to make sure Mark and Jaebum won’t cross paths again. It’s the only thing Mark could think of to explain himself away from Jaebum’s life.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Jaebum asks. His words come out slowly and Mark knows he’s still trying to process the information.

Mark shakes his head and answers with another lie, “My parents didn’t tell me much. Didn’t want me stressing out during exams or something.”

Jaebum nods as if this all makes perfect sense, and Mark guesses it does because he thought so carefully about his story beforehand.

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah,” Mark mutters. This, at least, is the truth.

He’s absolutely fucking terrified. Over Skype video, the doctor they found had told them that sometimes the surgery doesn’t work. It’s rare, but sometimes something might go wrong and Mark might end up dying anyways, and then all of this would be for naught. Mark’s scared because, while Jaebum hasn’t been in his life for a long time, he’s managed to carve a space for himself into Mark’s routine and, for all that Mark is a daredevil who loves adventure, Jaebum’s presence is a piece of stability he doesn’t want to lose. He doesn’t want to find out what his life in Seoul will be like without Jaebum, but he will anyways. He has to.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot,” Jaebum murmurs.

The back of his eyes are stinging and tears manage to slip past his waterline and Mark feels like he can’t breathe because he doesn’t want this. He never wanted any of this. He doesn’t regret meeting Jaebum, not for a single second, but, _god_ , he wishes their story didn’t have to be this way.

Jaebum pulls Mark close to his chest. He’s rubbing circles into Mark’s back and patting Mark’s hair and he says, “But it’ll be okay because we can keep in touch right? We’ll call and text and if you ever need anything you can come to me. I’ll be there.”

It’s supposed to be comforting. It’s supposed to make Mark feel better, but he just cries harder because he can’t. He won’t be able to call or text or go to Jaebum ever again because he _won’t know who Jaebum is_. Mark can’t say any of that, though, so he shakes his head in the crook of Jaebum’s neck and tries to pull away to form some kind of bullshit response for why that won’t be happening, but Jaebum hugs him tighter.

“It’s okay, Mark. I understand. You want to focus on your family right now and that’s what’s most important. You’ll probably need to change your number, too, huh?” Mark nods and he can feel Jaebum frown. “It’s okay if we lose contact for a little while. You’re my best friend, really, and I care about you and I love you a lot and I know we’ll see each other again soon.”

Jaebum’s voice sounds like honey and hearing it is usually enough to soothe Mark’s nerves, but, right now, Mark feels so hopeless.

Here he is, sitting in a car with a boy he loves, but he can’t tell him he loves him in the way that he loves him, even though he’s about to forget everything they’ve ever done together and everything the boy means to him, and Jaebum doesn’t even know. He’s sitting in a car with a boy he loves, but he knows the boy doesn’t feel the same kind of love and that’s the reason why he needs to forget in the first place. He’s sitting in a car with a boy he loves, and the moonlight is framing his face just right so there’s a sparkle in his eyes, even though they’re so incredibly crestfallen, and his cheeks look like they’re glowing and he’s so beautiful, but Mark can’t tell him. He’s sitting in a car with a boy he loves and he’s trying _so hard_ not to cry, but the tears only flow more swiftly, and everything hurts and it’s all because he needs to say goodbye.

He whispers the last words softly, almost afraid to expose them to the world.

“I love you, too, Im Jaebum.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SOSOSOSOSO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN ME SUCH A LONG TIME TO WRITE!!! i had a pretty rough semester at uni (both academically and mentally/emotionally) so i couldn’t really do anything productive for a while / wasn’t in the correct mindset to write… then summer started and with that, work, which is interesting but also very tiring, so writing is also hard, but i hope people are satisfied with this chapter? it didn’t quite turn out how i wanted it to, tbh, and i'm not super happy with it bc it can definitely be better, but i just want to get it out there for anybody who’s been waiting for an update…
> 
> thanks for reading my word vomit (if you made it this far) and comments/kudos are always appreciated!! and/or talk to me on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3) (@rewindmp3)!!


	4. an end and a beginning

Yugyeom has never been so goddamned scared in his entire life.

The days in California leading up to this one have actually been pleasant. Other than the few instances in which he was reminded of _why_ exactly he was in America for the first time, Yugyeom has been nothing but happy. Mark’s family has been treating him like a third son and he’s gotten to see so many places he’s only dreamed of before (his favorites have been the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where he swears his name will be one day, Disneyland, and Venice Beach).

But then come the moments where Yugyeom’s glassy, rose-tinted view of his trip shatter.

Like when he watched Mark deactivate any and all social media accounts and received strict instructions to tell post-surgery-Mark that his reason for doing so was because “he felt like social media was becoming a way to haphazardly say that he’s interacted with his old friends and know what’s going on in their lives, instead of actively reaching out and having actual conversations with them”, which was not wholly inaccurate. (Yugyeom thinks Mark would be better off without some of his friends here, though he knows that won’t happen. Mark is the kind of person who, once he becomes attached to someone, it’s difficult for him to let go. Which kind of makes this whole surgery situation even more shitty in Yugyeom’s opinion, but he’ll respect his hyung’s decision.)

Or the other time he and Mark were resting by the pool in Mark’s backyard and Mark gave him permission to tell Bambam and Jackson everything. (“Only if they ask, okay? Or, actually, if you think you need someone to talk to about everything, then you can tell them. I’m sorry to have done this to you, but if they don’t need to know or if you think you’re okay dealing with the aftermath by yourself, I don’t want them to know. It’ll only add extra stress to their lives. If there were a way I could erase this whole situation from your mind, believe me, I would.” But Yugyeom wouldn’t want that. Doesn’t want that. He wishes he could’ve known Mark’s feelings sooner, to protect him properly.)

And then today.

Mark’s parents and siblings have already gone back home. They had done so much while finals were happening to coordinate getting the all the right people together at the right time, had spoken to countless doctors and nurses both with and without Mark there, had worked so hard to construct some degree of normalcy for their oldest son so that he could feel at least somewhat comfortable during the days prior to the procedure, had paced anxiously back and forth in the waiting room while the surgery was happening. And they were _exhausted_.

Yugyeom was anxious when the surgery was happening, too. How could he not with his friend’s life on the line? He trusted the doctors and their fancy degrees, but what he didn’t trust was Mark’s stubborn heart.

He doesn’t know why, but the entire time, he just had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach that something bad was going to happen. Even after the doctors had exited the operating room, letting Mark’s parents know that the surgery was a success and went off without complications, Yugyeom couldn’t let himself relax. Even now, as Mark is stable and resting, Yugyeom finds himself a nervous wreck. Mark wouldn’t let a simple surgery remove the traces of Jaebum from his mind, would he?

A low grumble from his stomach interrupts Yugyeom’s frenzied thoughts. He hasn’t eaten all day. He turns towards Mark’s sleeping figure on the bed, reluctant to leave. But he can almost hear Mark’s voice in his mind, admonishing him for not taking care of himself properly, so he heaves himself up from the chair he was just sitting in, shakes his legs to regain some feeling in them, and heads towards the cafeteria.

The walk to the cafeteria is long and he’s no longer surrounded by bustling family members and doctors, so he has some time to think.

He knows he tried so adamantly to get Mark to just confess because he was so sure that whoever Mark loved would love him back. It’s not a particularly difficult thing to do, loving Mark, especially if it’s Jaebum. Yugyeom really thought that Jaebum had liked Mark for the longest time, what with how carefree and playful he is around Mark, and how his eyes always seem have an extra sparkle when they talk to or about each other.

But then Jaebum had to go and date Jinyoung and break Mark’s whole fucking heart. Yugyeom almost scoffs out loud, catching himself as a young patient eyes him warily. His displeasure must’ve been showing on his face.

There’s been a tapeworm of frustration eating at Yugyeom from the inside ever since he found out. He’s been so _angry_ over this entire situation. What was the point of Jaebum constantly leaving class at the speed of light to shower and get changed and go to the cherry tree to spend time with Mark, instead of staying late like he would before, if he didn’t have feelings for Mark to begin with? What was the point of Jaebum going out of his way to go over to Mark’s place to cook him kimchi jjigae when he was sick or missed home or just needed a pick me up if not to comfort a crush? What was the point of Yugyeom watching them grow closer, assuming they would figure it out, if Jaebum was just going to go and fall for Jinyoung instead?

Yugyeom stares at the array of drinks lined up in the refrigerator in front of him.

He can’t really attribute this horrible situation to Jaebum, though. He knows that it’s not Jaebum’s fault, not Jinyoung’s fault, not anybody’s fault at all except fate laughing in Mark’s face, which makes everything more difficult for him to deal with.

His eyes scan the assorted beverages for a chocolate milk and he wishes he could just blame someone, _anyone_ , for all of this mess so his anger could be directed at _something_ and he could confront whoever was responsible for making Mark suffer so much, but he _can’t_.

“Hey, sorry, but have you found the drink that you wanted?”

The voice sounds disembodied at first, until Yugyeom snaps out of his train of thought to see an exhausted looking nurse whose gaze is flickering between where his frame blocks most of the refrigerator and the row of different flavors of Red Bull. He looks at the chocolate milk in his hands before deciding against it, putting it back in the fridge and choosing a mocha instead. He needs the caffeine and still gets his chocolate—a good compromise. Smiling sheepishly at the nurse, he backs away from the drinks, plucks a sandwich from the adjacent refrigerator, and goes to pay.

He struggles with finding the correct change for a minute, because American money is dumb and all dollar values of bills look the same, then practically inhales his food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was.

He crumples the sandwich wrapper and tosses it in the trash and people who claim that they can leave their shit on dining area tables because “it’s the staff’s job to clear them, anyway” can rot in hell. Yugyeom idly sips on his drink as he makes his way back. He feels significantly calmer than before; the walk must’ve helped clear his head.

That is, of course, until he rounds the corner to Mark’s room and hears the screams.

In shock, Yugyeom drops his still half-full bottle of mocha onto the floor, barely noticing the contents of it spilling onto the white linoleum tiles and sprinting the rest of the way there. Yugyeom can hardly see his friend past the medical professionals who have gathered around Mark’s bed, but when he does catch glimpses, he sees arms and legs thrashing about, no doubt because of how much he hurts.

The next moment, nurses are pushing Yugyeom backwards, away from the door as doctors wheel Mark back into the direction of the surgery area while simultaneously trying to restrain him. Panic and fear start to dominate every other emotion in Yugyeom’s brain as he catches a nurses elbow, helplessly asking what’s wrong with Mark.

Maybe the nurse is sympathetic, or maybe the nurse’s nerves are just as frayed as Yugyeom’s are right now so the usually strict rules regarding patient information divulgence are disregarded for a moment. Regardless, the nurse explains in a rush, “It’s rare, but sometimes in patients who have extremely strong connections to the one that they love, the plant grows back after a recovery period. It’s like their subconscious is vehemently denying the possibility of the patient forgetting their memories. The plant grows back more quickly and becomes _exponentially_ more painful than the first time. It’s a good thing it grew back while he was still in the hospital because we just have to do another removal process and he should be fine. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go help your friend.”

The nurse darts off after that, and all Yugyeom can do is watch as the doors swing shut to the surgery area, Mark’s shrill cries of pain still ringing angrily in his ears.

Yugyeom feels numb as he waits. He feels numb as he calls Mark’s family to make sure they know what has been going on. He feels numb as he paces back and forth, watching the time tick by as Mark undergoes another round of surgery, numb as he sits on a chair with his legs bouncing up and down anxiously, numb to everything, except for the immense worry he feels infused in every cell of his body.

He feels numb until he sees them bring Mark back into his room to recover, and then he’s seized by action. Mark’s family makes their towards Mark’s bed and Yugyeom springs up from his seat on the waiting room bench to follow. He’s almost through the threshold to Mark’s room, when suddenly there’s a figure blocking his way.

Yugyeom doesn’t know _what_ has come over him, but when the nurse doesn’t let him enter, telling him that so soon after the procedure, visitors to Mark’s room are restricted to “family only”, he practically yells, “That’s my older brother! Let me see him!”

The nurse looks so taken aback by his sudden outburst (he’s been well-behaved, introspective, and uncharacteristically quiet the whole time he’s been in the hospital thus far) that Yugyeom falters for a second, re-registering the environment he’s in. What he doesn’t realize is that it’s not just the outburst—it’s also how torn up Yugyeom’s voice sounds and how he looks like he’s about to cry and how the fact that he aches to see Mark in pain and suffering is stamped clearly all over his face. Thankfully, Mark’s mom pops her head out, urging Yugyeom to come inside and join the rest of Mark’s immediate family. The nurse grimaces a little but, but acquiesces, moving out of the way to let Yugyeom through the door.

There’s a thrum of activity inside the room, low voices explaining how Mark’s vitals are doing and giving a more detailed explanation as to why Mark needed a second surgery. Yugyeom doesn’t hear any of it. All he can focus on is how gaunt and shallow Mark’s face is. Mark has always been skinny, but it was a lean, muscular kind of skinny. Right now, instead of looking slightly worse for wear like he did after the first surgery, he seems to be a few pounds of mere skin from becoming a skeleton.

When the doctors and nurses leave the room, none of them follow. It doesn’t feel right to leave. It doesn’t feel safe to leave, either, because who knows what might happen again, especially after the first surgery. They’ve formed a protective halo of sorts, a ring of guardian angels, around Mark’s bed. Their attention shifts occasionally, from their phones to various newspapers or books they’ve brought along to plainly staring out the window, but, for the most part, they’re all focused on Mark in his bed and the machine beeping his signs of life next to his unconscious body.

It’s kind of funny, then, how all of them seem to be drifting off when Mark finally comes to. He wakes with a soft groan and six heads snap towards the direction of the sound. Mark’s parents jump from their seats immediately, with Tammy, Grace, and Joey not far behind, and his mom asks, “How are you feeling, honey?”

“Everything feels kind of sore, but they told me that would happen at the beginning of the procedure, didn’t they? So I feel fine,” Mark replies, voice scratchy. He coughs once, twice, three times to clear his throat. Yugyeom feels like all his nerves are frayed as he watches, praying that no flowers appear and that no blood trickles from the corner of Mark’s mouth.

There’s nothing. But, of course, that isn’t the real test.

Mark answers some of his family’s concerned questions before turning to Yugyeom.

“I’m really sorry that we could only schedule this surgery for when you were in California, Gyeom. Not an ideal winter vacation, but I really appreciate you being here with me. I hope you haven’t been too bored waiting for me in the hospital.”

Mark’s words are filled with so much genuine gratefulness and care and remorse for Yugyeom being there for him that Yugyeom wonders how on earth Im Jaebum could be so lucky and so fucking _stupid_ at the same time, to have Mark love him, but not love him back.

Yugyeom keeps his tone as casual as he can manage as he replies, “You know I’d do anything for you and that I don’t mind being here. And yeah, I’ve just been texting some people, like Bam and Jaebum-hyung.”

As they discussed beforehand, Mark’s family makes no reaction at the mention of Jaebum’s name. They don’t want to give any indication either way as to whether Mark should or should not know Jaebum. And yet, it still seems like there’s a collective breath being held as everyone waits for Mark’s response.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he says and Yugyeom’s entire heart is pounding against his rib cage in anticipation, “I hope Bammie’s having fun and relaxing with his family in Thailand. But who’s Jaebum?”

And with that, the nervous thrumming in the air vanishes. Mark doesn’t remember.

“Just some new dance hyung,” Yugyeom lies, “nobody important.”

 

 

The semester has barely even started and Yugyeom already wants it to be over. He’s had to subtly engineer Jaebum’s schedule to make sure that he’ll never cross paths with Mark, while also talking Mark into switching around some of his classes to _really_ ensure that they’ll never see each other. He and Jaebum usually have weekly dance practices as well and pre-surgery-Mark would accompany him more often than not. Yugyeom isn’t too sure how the procedure works, so he doesn’t know if Mark will feel some residual urge to tag along. Whatever the case, he’s made sure that Mark can’t because “I heard that this class is a lot more interesting than the one you were previously signed up for! Easier too!” and Mark Tuan doesn’t skip class.

Yugyeom wants to sleep for maybe fifty _thousand_ years, but every time he almost complains out loud, he reminds himself that he’s doing this for Mark. It’s all for Mark, who pulled him to safety from a dangerous precipice by showing him that there was somebody at university who believed in him and genuinely cared about his well-being (before Bambam came into the picture and all but exploded that point in Yugyeom’s face). Mark, who is one of the four people in the world Yugyeom would unhesitatingly die for, deserves at least this much.

At any rate, the migraine-inducing wildfires of class scheduling have fizzled out and the hardest part now is pretending like everything’s fine when Jaebum asks whether he’s heard from Mark yet.

Well, that and the fact that both Jackson and Bambam have noticed how Mark doesn’t talk about or hang out with Jaebum anymore. Jackson never really knew Jaebum, had mostly heard about him from conversations with Mark or Yugyeom, so his questions are fleeting and off-handed. Maybe it’s a testament to how close Mark and Jaebum were beforehand that Jackson even noticed a difference at all.

Bambam, on the other hand, is a little more difficult. He never brings it up around Mark, probably scared that Mark and Jaebum have had some drastic, earth-shattering falling out that Mark doesn’t want to revisit, but when he’s with Yugyeom…. Oh, boy, does he have questions. Yugyeom’s a shitty liar to begin with, even shittier when someone he loves is involved, and perhaps the shittiest when it’s Bambam, who knows him like the back of his hand. All Yugyeom can really do is give answers that are as vague as he can possibly make them (he isn’t _technically_ lying, although the guilt gnawing at his gut would indicate otherwise) and switch the topic as quickly as possible, no matter how _not_ subtle he is about it.

So, other than a few minor hitches in the form of concerned friends, everything has been going pretty well for these first two weeks back on campus.

Thinking that was perhaps Yugyeom’s first mistake.

He’s accompanying Mark on a grocery trip run to the only store that has the particular type of dried seaweed Mark uses to make soup. Yugyeom “helps” him pick out a few vegetables from the fresh produce section before Mark gets annoyed and banishes Yugyeom to go look for snacks while Mark continues shopping for real groceries, like a proper adult.

Happily, Yugyeom surveys his options, picking out some rolls of kimbap and snagging a few flavors of his favorite cream wafers. When Mark texts him saying that he’s going to check out, Yugyeom makes a pit stop to pick up his favorite brand of chocolate milk. He goes to find Mark, who rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything when he sees the bounty that Yugyeom puts on the conveyor belt.

They’re _so close_. They’re so close to being out of the door, items all checked out and arms decked with grocery bags, when Yugyeom hears an all too familiar voice call out, “Mark?”

Mark turns around curiously towards the sound of the voice and Yugyeom can only watch in horror as Jaebum bounds up to them from the street corner, asking again, “Mark, is that you?”

There’s a slight smile on Jaebum’s face, but Mark’s pure curiosity turns into bewilderment as he responds, “Sorry, do I know you?”

Jaebum’s eyes widen in shock and every single cell in Yugyeom’s body is screaming _PANIC! PANIC! WHAT THE FUCK!_

Jaebum turns towards Yugyeom, poised to (probably) ask what the hell is going on, but before he can say anything, Yugyeom mutters, “He’s the new dance hyung I told you about. C’mon, Mark-hyung, we should go,” grabs Mark’s elbow, and _hightails_ it out of there.

What on earth is he supposed to do now?

 

 

Jaebum thinks he’s going insane.

It’s nearing the two-week mark back from winter break and he _swears_ he’s going insane. It’s not from his classes or extracurriculars because syllabus week has just finished and he doesn’t have any actual work to do yet. But maybe having work to do would help him, though, distract him from the fact that he swears to God is seeing things.

A few hours earlier, Jaebum had gone to the cherry tree. Until that point, his schedule still hadn’t been finalized, giving him an excuse not to go, but now it’s almost like it’s calling for him.

He makes it up the hill, drops his bags to the ground, leans back against the broad trunk, and rests his head against the wood, weather be damned. He can feel his nose turning pink from the cold, so he angles his face forward to bury his nose in his scarf. That’s when he sees him. Or, _thinks_ he sees him, rather.

There’s a figure at the bottom of the hill, one that’s shaped eerily like Mark’s. It’s paused there, waiting for something maybe, and Jaebum thinks the person will climb to the root of the tree and rest there, like he and Mark have so many times before, but instead, the figure bends over. They’ve dropped something. The person brushes it off on his pants before slipping it into his jacket pocket and moving on.

Jaebum almost wants to yell, wants to call out Mark’s name to see if it really is him, but he’s learned better since the first time this happened, a few days earlier when he had just returned from a relaxing break at home.

When he had first stepped foot on campus again, he was hit by an indescribable sadness. The first thing that he usually did was text Mark to let him know that he had arrived. They’d meet at the tree (always the tree, even it would be more convenient to meet directly at their destination, they always meet there first), then walk over to whichever café or restaurant or museum or store they had planned on going to together. But this time, it was different because Mark wasn’t there. Jaebum thought that sitting at their tree anyways might help with the weird melancholy settling into his chest, so he bundled up and went.

By the time he had reached the foot of the hill, there was someone already standing at the tree. Jaebum thought he had recognized the silhouette, the slope of the shoulders, the styling of the hair—nobody else has a body quite as willowy as Mark’s—so he quickened his pace up the hill, calling out Mark’s name.

The person had paid him no mind, had made no moves to turn around or made any indication that they had even heard someone calling them anyway. It wasn’t until they started walking away from the tree that Jaebum saw the large headphones covering their ears, probably noise-cancelling ones, not unlike what Mark would always wear when they studied.

So, yeah, he’s not even sure if he really saw Mark. Ever since the new semester started—no, even during winter break as well—Jaebum hasn’t stopped thinking about Mark and about why he can’t contact him. He thinks he sees Mark everywhere. There have been so many times where he’s reached for his phone to text or believes he sees Mark, but then the person turns and it’s not Mark at all and Jaebum feels the heaviest disappointment weighing down his breath. Why is he still seeing Mark everywhere when he _knows_ Mark has been flitting between America and Taiwan? He thinks he’s going crazy.

He thinks he’s going crazy, until he doesn’t anymore.

Jaebum goes grocery shopping every two weeks. That’s just somehow become a fact of his life. He’ll buy some fresh groceries in order to meal prep and maybe some frozen dumplings or other pre-cooked food to heat up quickly if he doesn’t have the energy to cook, and all in all, he usually needs to go to the grocery store every two weeks.

This grocery trip is coming at a good time. Jaebum needs a distraction, something easy and half-mindless that can get him out of his muddled thoughts.

The walk there is cold, but nice. The sun is shining brightly, so even though Jaebum has to burrow into his scarf and shove his hands into his pockets to keep warm, the weather lifts his mood a bit.

He’s _almost_ there. He’s almost through the doors of the grocery store when he does a double take.

He may be across the street, waiting for the light to turn so he can cross, but that is definitely Yugyeom holding a few grocery bags, and that is _definitely_ Mark he’s with. It’s not an illusion or case of mistaken identity this time because he can see Mark’s side profile and that is _definitely him_. There’s nobody else in the world with the familiar slope of Mark’s nose or the same mischievous smile.

They turn around to talk to each other, redistributing bags so they both have a similar amount of weight to carry, the light flashes to the walking sign, the automatic glass doors open as Mark and Yugyeom begin to step out, and Jaebum is nearly sprinting across the street, calling out, “Mark? Mark, is that you?”

If Jaebum hadn’t been so focused on Mark’s face turning towards him, then maybe he would’ve seen the shock and worry and fear bloom across Yugyeom’s and proceeded with more caution, but he doesn’t and he’s smiling because _Mark is back!_

But then Mark furrows his brows and opens his mouth and asks, “Sorry, do I know you?”

Jaebum’s face falls and this is when he decides to turn to Yugyeom. He wants to ask what the hell is going on and what happened to Mark and a million and a half other questions, but he doesn’t even get the chance open his mouth before Yugyeom is tugging at Mark’s sleeve, explaining ( _lying_ ), “He’s the new dance hyung I told you about. C’mon, Mark-hyung, we should go.”

Just like that, Jaebum watches them, watches Mark, disappear around the corner.

 _He’s disappearing from your life again_ , his mind has the audacity to think, before he quickly corrects himself.

_No, not again. I won’t let him._

 

 

It takes a day for Jaebum to decide what he wants to do.

Naturally, the trip to the grocery store had the exact opposite effect of what he wanted it to do. His mind was in a half-haze while he was in there, mainly relying on muscle memory to pick out the ingredients and brands he normally gravitates towards as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

The first thing that was very clear: Mark doesn’t recognize him anymore. Or, at least, he was pretending not to recognize him. Jaebum doesn’t understand why Mark would pretend to not know who he was. It’s not like Mark left the country on bad terms with him, and since Mark cut contact with everyone ( _everyone but Yugyeom, apparently_ , his mind bitterly supplies) it’s not like he could’ve done something to piss Mark off that would warrant Mark not wanting to talk to him anymore.

And Yugyeom’s reaction… Yugyeom definitely knew Mark wouldn’t remember Jaebum. Which means that 1) Yugyeom has been in contact with Mark for at least a short while, long enough for him to gage what Mark does and doesn’t know and 2) Mark’s reaction was probably genuine because while Yugyeom didn’t seem to anticipate the train wreck that happened, he at least seemed prepared to respond to it.

He’s in the middle of class, boredom slowly seeping into him. There’s a guest lecturer today whose dull, monotonous voice has become a buzz of background noise against Jaebum’s insistent thoughts. It’s an impulse decision, sort of, as he’s mulling everything over once again, when he reaches into the small pocket of his backpack, fetches his phone, and texts Yugyeom: _We need to talk_.

All important conversations seem to happen in cafés. Or, at least, a lot of the ones in Jaebum’s life do. He’s nursing a cup of coffee when Yugyeom drops into the seat in front of him, face looking resigned and mildly uncomfortable.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on with Mark, or do I need to pull it out of you?” Jaebum asks, voice even.

He expects Yugyeom to seem nervous, scared, even, as he usually is with confrontation, but Yugyeom meets his eyes dead-on and bluntly states, “He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t know who you are.”

“I figured as much from our run-in yesterday,” Jaebum bitterly admits, “but why? Why doesn’t he know who _I_ am, but you guys are still as close as ever?”

Yugyeom purses his lips, “I don’t think he’d want me to tell you.”

“Okay, fine. First tell me: did he even need to go back to America and Taiwan? Or has he been here this whole time?”

“He’s been on campus since we got back,” Yugyeom says with a vindictive smirk. “He lied to you. He lied to you because he knew he needed to avoid you and to forget.”

“He’s only forgotten me? Nobody else?”

“Yeah. Only you.”

The more Yugyeom talks, the more bewildered Jaebum gets. As if it hasn’t been all he’s been doing since he ran into Mark again, he rapidly plays back the last year of friendship with Mark over, wondering and wondering until he finally pleas, “How can it even be possible that he’s only forgotten me? Did he purposely get into an accident that gave him selective amnesia just to forget me? What the fuck did I do? Ever since yesterday, I’ve been trying to figure out what I could’ve possibly done wrong, but I really don’t… I can’t come up with anything!”

“He wouldn’t want me to tell you,” Yugyeom repeats. His eyes are cold in a way that Jaebum doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, but he knows his friend well enough to see the fire simmering behind the ice, melting it away.

“How is that fair? I’m his best friend and this whole mess clearly involves me somehow, so shouldn’t I know?”

“Were,” Yugyeom corrects mildly, “you _were_ his best friend. Like I said, he has no idea who you are anymore. And I’d honestly really like to keep it that way.”

“But why do _you_ get to know? Why am I left in the dark when I could be helping him with whatever he’s going through? No offense, but how can you be helping him when all that’s ever happened is him helping you? You’re just a kid!”

“I might be _just a kid_ ,” Yugyeom spits, eyes now aflame, “but I love him and respect him enough not to rip his heart out of his chest and put it in a blender!” His voice is still low, still controlled, but his tone is venomous and the look in his eyes says that he’s about two seconds away from throttling Jaebum.

“Rip… what? What are you talking about? What do you mean? I tore his heart apart?”

“Earth to Im Jaebum! Mark was in love with you! He was in love with you, but you clearly didn’t feel the same, and he almost _died_ because of it.”

Jaebum can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Mark loved him? He almost died? He didn’t…. Mark wouldn’t attempt…. Jaebum feels positively _sick_ to his stomach as he tries to stutter out… something. Anything to break the silence as Yugyeom angrily eyes him.

“Do you know what Hanahaki disease is, Jaebum-hyung?” Jaebum doesn’t even have the chance to shake his head before Yugyeom continues, voice dripping with spite, “It’s a disease of unrequited love. Vines with _thorns_ grow around your organs and flowers grow in your lungs and there are only two ways for it to end naturally. Either the person you love ends up loving you back and everything disappears or you _die_. The third option is not natural, and is incredibly expensive. You can get surgery to remove the flowers from you system, but you forget all your memories with and about whoever you were in love with. And Mark was on the brink of _dying_ because he didn’t want to forget you. But Mark wouldn’t do that to everyone else who loves him. He was seriously considering it, because he loved you so much, but in the end he decided to stay for us.”

Jaebum’s hands drop to his lap and his eyes follow. He feel like he can’t look at Yugyeom anymore. None of the thoughts flowing through his brain are coherent as he processes everything Yugyeom has been telling him. Mark was in love with him. Jaebum had never known, never even had an inkling of a clue. Mark had Hanahaki disease. Mark loved him so much he was willing to let the flowers kill him to keep their memories together. Mark… Mark, Mark, Mark.

It feels like an eternity before he manages to croak out, “I…. I don’t know what to say, Gyeom. I never even suspected….”

“You broke his heart, hyung. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you broke his heart so much that flowers grew in the cracks and nearly killed him in the process. But you know Mark. Our angel, Mark. He doesn’t blame you at all. He would always tell me that it wasn’t your fault, that I should still treat you with kindness and respect, that you’re an amazing person and it’s not like you chose how you felt about him, and objectively I knew that to be true but it wasn’t _fair_. It still isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you got to be happy and have everything while vines were growing around his lungs. He was throwing up petals and blood, going through pure agony every single day just by _breathing_ , while putting on a brave face and helping everyone—even you, especially you—with all their shit on top of his. And I know he wouldn’t want me to blame you and I _don’t_ blame you, but I can’t… I can’t look at you the same knowing you did that to him.”

Jaebum hears the metal chair screech against the ground as Yugyeom leaves. The sound grates against his ears, high-pitched and harsh. Jaebum thinks he deserves it.

 

 

He walks around in a daze after that conversation, his body moving on autopilot. He eats without tasting, answers questions without really understanding what he’s saying, and goes through his assignments with what seems like a veil of film obscuring his senses from acting properly.

It’s still something he can’t wrap his brain around, the idea that—no, the _fact_ that—Mark was in love with him.

He remembers the silly, carefree moments, where Mark would tease him and Jaebum would pout back or where Jaebum would tease him in turn and Mark would just smile and let him. He remembers the way Mark would dote on him without seeming like it, always putting on a front and arguing before conceding with whatever Jaebum had wanted in the first place. He remembers the more serious moments, too, like Mark helping him through that nasty bout of back pain, Mark encouraging him through English lessons and patiently correcting his fumbling pronunciations, Mark holding him tightly as the stress and pressure got to him and he broke down in tears. He remembers Mark, in the long and short time that they’ve known each other, being someone who was always there, someone he could always rely on, without question and without fail.

He remembers all of this and thinks to himself, _Was this romantic love?_

Most of all, he remembers the way Mark would always seem to remember him, in gestures both grandiose and miniscule. Whether it was setting up a relaxing hang out day filled with comfort food and video games after a particularly stressful period in Jaebum’s life, or accompanying him to the studio, both dance and music, to encourage Jaebum and even help him out occasionally, or even the simplest act of texting him a link to a cute cat video, Mark made it clear that Jaebum was always in his thoughts.

And it hurts, it’s selfish and it _hurts_ , to not have that anymore.

Even Youngjae has been able to tell. They share the same music production class and, while Youngjae was Jinyoung’s friend first, he and Jaebum began talking and sitting next to each other during class while Jaebum and Jinyoung were still dating. They’re aren’t particularly close, but they’re comfortable enough with one another to occasionally compose together.

So, that’s what they’re doing. Or, rather, what they’re trying to do, but the atmosphere is stiff and quiet before Youngjae finally speaks up, “Are you okay, hyung? You’ve seemed kind of down the past few days….”

Jaebum answers ruefully, “I’m okay, Youngjae-ah. Some stuff has been happening in my personal life and I thought that working on something might help me take my mind off of things, but I guess I’m too stuck on it to make much progress on this song. I’m sorry for dragging you out here when my brain’s not in the right place.”

“You know I don’t mind.” The smile Youngjae aims at him is forgiving and warm, like a beam of sunshine on a rainy day, but it still doesn’t lift his mood too much. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just…. I don’t know. My mind’s a mess. I really hurt a friend and I didn’t even realize it. And I don’t… I don’t think I can apologize anymore. It’s too late.”

Youngjae pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile, “It’s never too late to apologize, hyung. If you value this person and want to make things right, the only thing stopping you from doing so is yourself. No matter how drastic the circumstances are, you should fight for the people you care about.”

 

 

It’s like fate is mocking him. A more optimistic person may think of what is happening right now as an amazing opportunity, but the sight before Jaebum’s eyes kind of makes him want to cry.

He’s at the cherry tree. Mark is sitting, back against the trunk, eyes closed, headphones on, at the cherry tree.

Jaebum almost turns tail and leaves. He’s not brave enough for this yet. He isn’t ready. But sensing someone else’s presence, Mark’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head to the side, like a curious kitten, hesitant smile gracing his lips.

Jaebum, it seems, is a fool with no brain-to-mouth filter.

“This is my tree.”

He wants to hit himself. Why did he say that?

“I’m sorry?” Mark asks in confusion.

“This is my tree. I always sit here between classes when I don’t have time to go back to the dorms,” Jaebum clarifies, face certainly beet red and not just from the cold.

“Oh,” Mark begins to gather up his stuff. This is _not_ what Jaebum intended, not at all. “I can go if you want?”

“No, no, no,” Jaebum hastily refutes, “it’s okay. Stay. The tree is big enough for two.”

Mark grins a little as he moves his backpack closer towards himself to make room for Jaebum. Timidly, Jaebum sits down in the proffered space.

“I’m Mark, by the way. Mark Tuan.”

“Im Jaebum,” comes the reply. And that should be that.

“Oh, you’re Yugyeommie’s dance friend! We ran into you the other day at the supermarket!”

“Yeah,” Jaebum agrees nervously, hand scratching at the base of his neck, “that’s me.”

He knows he sounds anxious and unsure of himself, but Mark doesn’t comment on it.

“Yugyeom’s like my little brother, so I go to basically all of his performances. I wonder why i’ve never seen you there before.”

“Our performance schedules probably just didn’t sink up,” Jaebum lies. “Plus, you probably wouldn’t have noticed me anyway.”

Mark giggles, _giggles_ , “Nah, I think I would’ve definitely noticed you.” _Oh_. “You look like you’d be a good dancer.” Oh.

There’s a silence that follows, strained only for Jaebum if the relaxed set of Mark’s shoulders is anything to go by.

“So, uh,” Jaebum starts awkwardly, attempting to dispel some of his discomfort, “how did you find this place?”

Mark inclines his head towards him, but doesn’t open his eyes, content in his own little world, as he answers, “It’s a funny story, actually. I dropped something around here one day and just remembered it when I needed a quiet place to think. I love my friends to death, but they’re insane.” His corners of his lips lift. He looks serene.

“I’m sorry to have broken your quiet, then,” Jaebum apologizes softly.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

Maybe he should be happy that he gets to talk to Mark like this, but hearing all of this hurts. He _has_ seen Jaebum perform before and this used to be _their_ tree, but all of that, all of those memories, are gone now. It’s gone from Mark’s mind and the fact that one of them remembers but not the other makes Jaebum want to cry.

But then he remembers what Youngjae said to him, wise beyond his years, and asks tentatively, “Would you… would you want to exchange numbers?”

Mark’s answering smile is bright, “I’d love to!”

 

 

When Jaebum opens the door to his room later that day, he nearly has a heart attack.

There’s a man that he’s pretty sure he’s never invited over before standing in the middle of where he _lives_. His back is facing Jaebum, but from his posture, he looks ready for a fight. He’s on the shorter end, but he’s wearing a muscle tee that shows off his arms for a reason.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in?”

The grip Jaebum has on his backpack tightens, knuckles turning white, preparing to swing his textbook-laden bag at whoever the hell this intruder is. Then, the man turns around.

“I don’t think Mark would like it very much if you tried to beat me up with your backpack,” Jackson muses, eyes flitting towards Jaebum’s death-hold on one of the straps.

“Jackson,” Jaebum acknowledges. They aren’t close by any means. They’ve occupied the same space maybe five times in the years they’ve known about one other’s existence, all brief interactions with Mark and Yugyeom there, usually limited to Jackson getting his blood pumping by goofing off, showing a few of his tricks, and beating some of the current dance crazes to death before leaving to go to fencing practice or somewhere else. There shouldn’t be a reason for Jackson to have somehow obtained his address (from Yugyeom, no doubt) and invited himself over. “How-”

“Your landlord let me in,” he interrupts. “They seem to be more susceptible to my persuasion than most,” he smirks to himself, as if recalling some sort of joke, “and before you ask me why I’m here, I’m here for Mark.”

Jaebum finally moves from his defensive stance near the doorway. He deposits his bag haphazardly onto the floor and sits on the couch, beckoning Jackson to do the same. It’s then that he sees Jackson has a leather-bound notebook in his hands.

Before Jaebum can ask about it, Jackson begins speaking.

“We had lunch with him earlier today, Yugyeom, Bambam, and I. You know how Yugyeom has his mid-semester evaluations coming up, right? So, there we were, talking about that and his dancing, when Mark mentioned you.”

Jaebum perks up, but Jackson’s face looks grim.

“He said, ‘Oh, Gyeommie, I ran into your friend Jaebum this morning.’”

Jaebum feels his heartbeat quicken. He thinks he knows where this is going and he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

“Bambam and I thought that was weird because as far as we knew, you and Mark were always closer than you and Yugyeom were. So why was Mark calling you Gyeom’s friend? And why did it sound like he didn’t know you at all?”

Jaebum shifts uncomfortably.

“Both of us looked at each other, confused. And then we looked at Yugyeom and he looked panicked. We didn’t say anything about it for the rest of lunch, but when Mark left, we started asking questions. It was so obvious to see that Yugyeom was lying. He’s never been good at that. After, like, two minutes he finally stopped trying to cover up the story and told us. He told us everything.”

Jackson’s grip on the notebook tightens. He makes eye contact with Jaebum and there’s so much sadness there that Jaebum wants to look away.

“Bambam started crying. I was _livid_. I was so fucking mad I nearly left to go find you that second and give you a piece of my mind. How dare you do this to him? Who gave you the right?”

Jaebum gulps. He can hear the simmering anger, but it’s tempered with something, like understanding and resignation.

“Yugyeom pulled me back. He had felt what I was feeling, but it’s not what Mark would’ve wanted. God,” Jackson chuckles darkly, “it sounds like Mark is dead when I say that. He is, though, in a way. After I was done being furious at you, I was furious at myself for not noticing. I was so busy with fencing and school work that I didn’t even have time to look after my oldest friend here. I had noticed that he seemed sick, thinner than usual, which for Mark should barely even be possible. He attributed it to finals stress, but he had bags under his eyes every time I saw him, despite the fact that he loves sleep and always tries to get enough of it, even during exams. I should’ve known. I should’ve been there for him. It was bad. It was _so_ bad for Mark, and I didn’t even know.”

There’s a wobble to Jackson’s voice now. He sounds every bit as guilty as Jaebum feels, and maybe that’s why he came here, to make Jaebum feel the weight of his responsibility. He sounds like he’s going to cry. Jaebum can’t bear to look at Jackson anymore, shifts his gaze to fall into his lap instead.

Jackson takes a deep breath, a shaky inhale, “Yugyeom told us about this notebook that Mark kept, a flower diary. Yugyeom had never seen it, but he knew Mark would keep a flower after every episode. He’d seen him do it. Mark’s always been sentimental like that.”

Jaebum glances at the leather-bound notebook in Jackson’s hand just as he raises it.

“Maybe I’m a shitty friend for invading his privacy, maybe _I’m_ the masochistic one, but I wanted to see. I wanted to see how many times he’d suffered through flowers crawling out of his lungs and how many times I wasn’t there for him like I should’ve been. So when I knew he had class, I went to his apartment and looked.”

He tosses the book on the coffee table and it slides in front of where Jaebum sits.

“Yugyeom said he watched Mark hide this, so post-surgery Mark wouldn’t see it. I guess that’s another thing Mark is good at, hiding things. But I was on a mission and when I want something, I get it. Mark and I are similar in that way. Although, in this case, the thing he wanted wasn’t in his control to get.”

The bitterness in his voice makes Jaebum look up again, and the blazing resentment is back in Jackson’s eyes.

“I didn’t come here to stop you from getting to know him again, because I know I can’t do that no matter how much I want to. But I wanted to warn you. While I wasn’t there for him the first time, I’m here for him now. We’ll protect him from you, all of us, if we think we need to. Don’t _ever_ ,” Jackson spits, “make him feel like that,” he points to the notebook, “ _again_.”

Then, he gets up and leaves.

The door swings shut and even though Jackson’s gone, the tension in the air is still thick. Jaebum looks at the leather-bound notebook, reaches for it and thumbs through the pages.

_Cherry blossom: transience of life. Oh, Jaebum. Now every time I say you’ll be the death of me, I’ll actually mean it._

_Magenta zinnia: lasting affection. It hurts. Breathing hurts. I love him the same, anyway._

_Primrose: I can’t live without you. I was so happy today, with him, before the flowers hit. Even so, I pray he stays by my side._

_Gardenia: secret love. He showed me the video today. All I wanted to do was hold his hand, but I couldn’t. I settled for telling him how proud I was of him instead._

_White lily: it’s heavenly to be with you. I love him and the way his his cheeks look so squishy when he laughs._

Jaebum reads. He reads every word, looks at every flower, feels every syllable, every petal marred with blood like a pinprick to his heart.

_Red carnation: my heart aches for you. He was so hurt today, after Jinyoung. Is it selfish to say that I could only think about how beautiful he looked despite it all, about how much I love him?_

_Tea rose: I’ll remember; always. I love him, but I have to let go. I have to forget._

For the first time since this whole ordeal started, Jaebum cries.

 

 

Mark does, indeed, text him after they exchanged numbers (again) that fateful day underneath the cherry blossom tree.

It’s unsettling. Both in the fact that Mark’s text introducing himself, making sure he has the right number, comes after a conversation they had only a month ago, confirming their post-finals dinner plans last semester, and in the comfortable way Mark converses with him.

It’s comfortable and easy, just like Mark’s presence always has been, but it _hurts_ , too. There’s so much guilt, so much culpability Jaebum feels for Mark’s pain, and he’s reminded of it every conversation they have. When Mark tells Jaebum his major because he doesn’t remember that Jaebum already knows, when he talks about his favorite foods, his family, his interests and hobbies, his little quirks and pet peeves as if Jaebum couldn’t have written an encyclopedia with all of the information already inside his head, it hurts. Jaebum hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how much everything hurts when he thinks of Mark.

When he sees him in person it’s even worse. Just a passing glance, one where Mark doesn’t even need to acknowledge Jaebum’s presence, and it’s like his heart can’t beat loudly enough against the regret that has a vice-grip around his being.

Mark seems so happy now, unreserved and carefree. Jaebum regrets what he made Mark suffer through before and he regrets re-introducing himself into Mark’s life, too, knowing what he did. The Mark from before would probably disagree, but Jaebum thinks he’s always been a little bit selfish. That’s why whenever Mark texts him, he responds within the minute, even if it’s just a stupid debate (one that they used to have all the time) about cats versus dogs, or Overwatch versus League of Legends.

He’s waiting for Yugyeom, on a bench at the cross section between the arts quad and one of the science buildings when it hits him.

After Jackson had invited himself over, Jaebum had told Yugyeom about the visit and the journal and asked him if he wanted to see it, or wanted to talk at all. Yugyeom had agreed to meet him, so now Jaebum sits, people-watching until Yugyeom arrives.

He sees Mark walking towards him, fluffy scarf wrapped snugly around his neck and a beanie covering the tips of his ears. He’s talking to one of his friends from class—Minhyuk, if Jaebum remembers correctly, tamping down the irrational jealous voice in his brain that snarls “that should be _me_.” The sun is shining so brightly on Mark, enveloping him in a blanket of warmth, even though it’s below freezing. There’s a rosiness to his cheeks that comes from the cold and his face scrunches up in laughter, open-mouthed and uninhibited. Jaebum sees his sharp canines poking out, can imagine the tinkling sound of Mark’s laughter, and thinks so himself, _I am so royally fucked._

Mark notices him, waves, keeps walking towards (presumably) his next class, gets stopped on his way by someone they know, strikes up a conversation.

Mark’s attention on him is brief. The moment is fleeting, ephemeral. Yet, a flush warms his face at Mark’s smile, bright and relaxed, as Jaebum waves back.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

This, Jaebum expects. It’s not the first crush he’s had. He’s all too familiar with the flutter of nerves, the pang of longing. What he doesn’t expect is the fact that the feeling doesn’t go away.

Instead it only seems to intensify. He doubles over in discomfort, eyes closed and head dropped forward almost between his knees, hoping it’ll alleviate the pain. It hurts so much it feels like he can’t breathe. He’s gasping for air, and this is how Yugyeom finds him.

“Hyung, oh my god, are you okay?” and suddenly Jaebum is choking. He feels a sweat break out across his forehead as he coughs and coughs and _coughs_ , bringing his hands up towards his mouth when he feels _something_ , something soft and distinctly not-bile-tasting, crawl up his throat.

It drags on for what seems like hours, but he knows it’s probably only been a few seconds, before he feels like air can pass through his lungs again. Jaebum takes deep, shuddering breaths. He opens his eyes and the sun is blinding, but that’s not what gets him to mutter, “ _Fuck_.”

“What is it, hyung?” Yugyeom asks sounding exceedingly worried.

Jaebum leans back, heart still pounding and in pain, so Yugyeom can see what’s in his palms.

“Oh my god,” he hears, but his eyes are across the field, searching. Mark’s still there, talking to his friends. It looks like their conversation is wrapping up, from the amounts of back-patting and nodding happening. Jaebum feels his breath catch, the breath he lost just a few moments ago and wanted to badly to regain, when he sees Mark smile again.

Yugyeom follows Jaebum’s gaze, looks back at the cherry blossoms in his hand, and groans, “Not again.”

 

 

Yugyeom’s being an obnoxious brat about it. Jaebum’s not surprised.

Something positive that has at least come out of this sudden, but perhaps not unexpected, new development is that Yugyeom is back to treating him like an older brother instead of like someone who beats up puppies in his spare time.

In all other aspects of his life, it means that he and Yugyeom are finally back to normal. Chalk it up to being an only child, but Jaebum hadn’t realized how much he missed having someone to tease and look after.

In terms of the flowers, it means that Yugyeom has all but transformed into a helicopter parent looking after a sick child. Yugyeom checks up on him every day, whether it be through text or phone call, and he doesn’t push as hard when they dance together, concerned about whether the strenuous exercise will exacerbate the thorns pricking at Jaebum’s organs. Being doted on is actually kind of nice.

What Jaebum could do without, though, is Yugyeom’s insistence that he tell Mark. Jaebum refuses every time.

Maybe before it wouldn’t have been as nerve-wracking. But now? When Jaebum is trying to build his friendship with Mark again from the ground up and trying to piece together how he did it the first time? He wouldn’t dare.

Jaebum’s doing his best to re-integrate himself into Mark’s life although the boundaries between acceptable and not acceptable behavior is fuzzy. Before, Jaebum would text Mark to meet up without reason, just because he was bored and wanted company. He’s not so sure he can do that anymore. So, he hangs out with Mark when Mark brings up a reason for them to meet and tries to reciprocate accordingly. It’s hard not to act overzealous about spending time with Mark face-to-face, though, despite the fact that it hurts and he coughs up petals every time they do.

While he would say they have moved past mere acquaintances in the past few weeks, he doesn’t know if Mark considers him a friend yet. Mark’s definition of “friend” has always been strict; other people’s definition of “friend” probably fits Mark’s definition of “close acquaintance” better. It’ll take time.

To escape from Yugyeom’s nagging and the double-edged sword that is being in Mark’s presence, he meets up with Jinyoung.

Their breakup wasn’t the easiest for Jaebum, but before they were dating, he did value and enjoy the depth of the conversations they would have. After Jaebum got over himself (aided very much by Mark’s helping hand), he and Jinyoung have become fairly close again.

Close enough so that in a brief lull in conversation, Jinyoung can read Jaebum well enough to ask, “What’s wrong, hyung? Why have you seemed so out of it recently? You’ve been so much happier now that Mark is back, but now….”

Jaebum knows he can’t tell Jinyoung the real reason, no matter how good of a friend he has become after their breakup. He can’t tell Jinyoung about the missed opportunities and the overwhelming regret, but he can say, “I think I’m in love with him, Jinyoung. I love him and I don’t know what to do about it.”

At his confession, Jinyoung laughs, loudly and full-bodied, “Is this supposed to be news?”

Jaebum cuts him a glare, but there is something else he has been curious about, in light of everything that has been happening for the past three months.

“Jinyoung, did you break up with me because you knew Mark liked me?”

Jinyoung looks surprised for a second, before his eyes crinkle up in a smile, “So you finally figured it out, huh?”

The smile Jaebum shoots him is more like a grimace. To save him from a response, Jinyoung keeps talking, “Yes and no.”

Jinyoung sits back in his chair, posture finally something less than pristine, like telling Jaebum this will be emotionally draining for him. That’s been a common occurrence lately, emotionally draining things.

“After meeting him for the first time, it was pretty obvious that Mark liked you. Even that first day, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. And if the only thing I saw was that Mark liked you, I would’ve fought. You chose _me_ after all. But after talking to you more, especially after Mark and I were finally introduced and I could put a face to the name, I could tell you liked him too. I’m not bitter about it, but you just started talking about him way more; how incredible he is, how comfortable he makes you feel, how supportive he is. You spoke accolades of him, and I just knew, even if you didn’t.”

“You thought I liked him, but didn’t think to confront me?” Jaebum chuckles, remorse infused into every rumble of his chest.

“I always thought you sort of knew.” Jinyoung shrugs, “To be honest, hyung, you were probably gone for him before you even met me.”

It pains him to hear. It hurts to know how blind he was and he shuts his eyes in protest, truly unseeing now. Inhale. _Mark loved me_. Exhale. _Now I love him_. Inhale. _He almost died_. Exhale. _Now it’s my turn_.

“I don’t know what’s stopping you or why you look uncomfortable by all of this, but just tell him you love him,” Jinyoung murmurs as he stands up to leave, “before it’s too late.”

 

 

Jaebum doesn’t.

Instead, like the true masochistic imbecile he is, he hangs out with Mark more. He isn’t even trying to make Mark fall in love with him or anything. He just misses him. He doesn’t care that it hurts afterwards, because in the moment, seeing Mark light up at an old spot they used to frequent or at a lame joke he used to love, feels like Jaebum’s floating on clouds.

It’s his second chance, a chance for redemption. Even though Mark hadn’t died, Jaebum could’ve lost him for good. That’s what the plan was supposed to be and it puts his interactions with Mark in a new perspective. Mark is always listening, a sponge for other people’s grievances and concerns, rarely ever sharing his own worries. Jaebum’s no stranger to asking Mark for advice, but now he’ll ask if there’s anything he can help with in return. As much as he thinks he can get away with, he verbalizes his appreciation for not only Mark’s help, but also who Mark is as a person in general. Mark is so much more than the pretty face everyone comments on all the time, and while there’s no denying that Mark is handsome, Jaebum wants to make sure that Mark knows someone recognizes his less superficial, more substantial qualities as well.

Jaebum listens, too. He listens to Mark because he doesn’t think enough people do (himself included), and he learns that he wasn’t quite the Encyclopedia on Mark that he thought he was.

They meet one day at a vintage record shop that Jaebum was curious about. When he mentioned it to Mark while texting, it was Mark who suggested they check it out together.

Jaebum spends maybe a touch too long trying to make himself presentable and by the time he reaches the store, Mark is leaning against the wall next to the entrance, looking effortlessly perfect in the way that only he can. He’s got on an oversized black leather motorcycle jacket over a long, white tee tucked into a pair of ripped skinny jeans that, upon closer inspection, show off a different pattern in each area that’s ripped.

Jaebum can feel his heart in his throat at the sight. He’s proud of himself for complimenting Mark’s jeans without stuttering.

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red as he mumbles, “Thanks. I customized them myself.”

Jaebum is taken aback. “Wow,” he exclaims in wonder, “they’re so creative; that’s really impressive.”

Mark flushes harder, looks off to the side in what shouldn’t be but most likely is embarrassment, and explains, “Yeah, I’m pretty interested in fashion and designing, but it’s not my major and I don’t have the time for it.”

“You,” Jaebum’s eyebrows furrow, “like fashion?”

“Mhmm,” Mark hums before turning to face Jaebum and laughing, “Why do you look like that? Is it really so surprising?”

“No, I- it- it’s just,” Jaebum splutters, embarrassed, “I didn’t know.”

Mark shrugs, “I mean, we haven’t known each other for that long and it’s not the most obvious thing.” _But you’re wrong. I should’ve known,_ Jaebum berates himself. _What else don’t I know?_ Out loud, he questions, “How long have you been interested?”

Mark offers another noncommittal shrug as he replies, “For a while. If you know Yugyeom, you know Bambam. He would ask me to model for him and I was fascinated by him tailoring pieces to me and would sometimes stick around to watch him design and edit. It just seemed pretty cool to me, expressing yourself like that. It’s not something that the business major lets you do at all, so,” a pained grimace, “Bambam helped me with this, actually. Maybe one day I’ll do something on my own.”

“I’m sure you will. You’ve always been-,” Jaebum hurries to correct himself, “I mean, you seem like the determined, stubborn type of person who always gets what he wants in the end. And I’ll be sure to wear your pieces when they come out.”

Mark smiles, warm and full of gratitude, “Thanks, Jaebum.”

 

 

Jaebum wants to believe that he’s strong enough to withstand the way the flowers rip apart his throat. So what if it feels raw and sore most of the time? If he gets to watch Mark scrunch his eyebrows together in concentration while studying, or wrinkle his nose in disgust when he eats something he doesn’t like the taste of, or chew on his lip in thought, or stain his cheeks with cherry-red in embarrassment, it’s worth it.

It’s worth it, he tries to tell himself, because being with Mark has always felt like being tucked snug under a heavy down comforter and protected from the scary monsters under the bed. It’s worth it, he tries to tell himself, because what’s love without a little bit of sacrifice?

The bad thing about the sacrifice being his own health, however, is the fact that, at some point, other people start to notice.

Unsurprisingly, the disease has begun to take a toll on his body. Jaebum doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore, which is strange for him since he’s always been one of the biggest eaters amongst any group of his friends. Even when he _is_ hungry, he can’t bring himself to eat more than a few bites, since the food feels like sandpaper tearing apart his already raw throat.

He knows it’s pretty serious when the exhaustion manifests itself in his appearance. Despite Yugyeom’s best efforts to get Jaebum to eat soft foods like congee and soup and basically anything else you can eat when you’ve gotten your wisdom teeth taken out, the cut of Jaebum’s jaw is sharp in a not-entirely-healthy way and his eyes look sunken and tired.

Mark asks about it, fairly quickly after the weariness begins to show on Jaebum’s face. It hasn’t even reached midterm season yet, so there really should be no way that Jaebum is as stressed as he seems to be. He texts every day, checking up to remind Jaebum to eat if he hasn’t already and to take a break once in a while. The latter half, Jaebum doesn’t need a reminder about. He’s finding it harder and harder to focus for long periods of time and he’s begun to take more and more naps to try to dispel the fatigue. But, evidently, it doesn’t work. Apparently, every time Mark has seen him, Jaebum seems worse for wear, so much so that Mark drags him out to treat him to a meal “in order for me to watch you eat some fucking food, dammit, you look like a skeleton! And that’s coming from me!”

Jaebum sits against the trunk of the cherry tree, eyes closed, waiting for Mark to arrive. It’s still chilly outside, the vestiges of winter clinging onto the air, but Jaebum’s bundled up with a beanie pulled low over his ears.

Mark’s a little late, but Jaebum doesn’t mind. It gives him more time to mentally negotiate with the stupid plant not to act up. He’s not actually sure if it works, but it makes him feel like his chances of embarrassing himself in front of Mark decrease slightly. And, when he’s done with that, it’s nice to just sit and listen to the rustling of leaves and grass in the wind. He thinks, idly, that maybe he should take a page out of Jae’s book and start sourcing some of the sounds for his songs.

A shout of his name breaks his trance, and Jaebum opens his eyes in the direction of the voice. It’s Mark, slowing from a run to a walk to meet him, cheeks and ears dusted with pink. Jaebum’s heart stutters as he takes in the sight.

“Sorry I’m late!” Mark apologizes as Jaebum stands up.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jaebum says while brushing dirt off his pants. “Meeting with a professor ran late or something?”

“No, actually,” Mark clears his throat, looking incredibly awkward, “uh, Minhyuk wanted to tell me something, that’s all.” The tips of Mark’s ears turn redder and he seems uncomfortable, so Jaebum simply nods and drops the subject.

They make idle conversation as they walk to Mark’s selected lunch destination and when they arrive, the welcome, toasty air sends shivers down Jaebum’s spine.

It’s not just the heating or the scalding soup that he orders that make Jaebum feel warm. It’s the fact that he’s with Mark, too. Mark’s presence is a comfort as they talk about anything and everything, moving seamlessly from whether coffee and tea are actually dehydrating, to if there are merits to devout religion in the modern scientific world, to why some pieces of meat can be eaten raw while others shouldn’t be. Jaebum barely feels the discomfort of food sliding down his throat and before he realizes it, he’s actually finished everything in front of him.

He isn’t even the one to notice it first. Midway through a sentence, Mark cuts himself short, exclaiming, “Hey! You finished!”

Jaebum looks down at his bowl in surprise and when he looks back up, he can see Mark’s expression changing from excited to concerned.

“I know you haven’t been eating or sleeping very well recently,” Mark says, “and I don’t know why you’re so stressed, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything. You don’t have to deal with whatever is wearing you down like this alone. I’ll help take care of you in any way that I can.”

Sincerity drips from Mark’s voice and there’s so much worry and care in his eyes that the only coherent thought that rings clear in Jaebum brain is a loud, resounding,  _I am so in love with you_. But then, he feels it. He feels something rising up in this throat and he brings his hands up to cover his mouth. He knows it isn’t food, despite how much he just ate because there’s no taste of bile. A perfumed, aromatic scent takes its place and the next thing he knows, he’s choking on petals and stems and thorns and Mark has made his way across the table to pat Jaebum’s back, but it’s just making it worse and his hands can’t contain the flowers anymore, so petals end up blood-splattered over the table and in his lap.

What feels like an eternity later, when he feels the attack subside, Jaebum’s breathing heavily and wiping beads of sweat away from his forehead. He can still feel Mark’s hand on his back and cringes when he sees the look of pure shock on Mark’s face.

“J- Jaebum...” Mark breathes, “What on earth…. Are you okay?”

 _I thought we agreed you’d save this for when I wasn’t with Mark!_ Jaebum thinks angrily at the disease inside his body. To Mark, he manages, “Yeah…. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“What is all of this? How can you suddenly throw up flowers?”

Jaebum is so tired he doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “I have Hanahaki disease.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Jaebum’s whole body freezes up. _Shit_ , he curses at himself, _did I really just say that?_

He sees the confusion on Mark’s face. With resignation, Jaebum elaborates, “It’s… it’s a disease that means I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back. I honestly don’t know much about it other than that.”

“So the only way for you to be cured is if the person you love eventually loves you back?” Jaebum nods. “What if that doesn’t happen?”

“Well…. I can get a surgery that will make me forget everything about the person or… or I die,” Jaebum grimaces.

“You can _die_ ….” Mark’s voice comes out laced with fear and light as feather. “Who are you in love with?”

The irony of the situation is not lost on Jaebum as he shakes his head sadly, “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who the person is because you can’t force love. Even if you could, I wouldn’t want that. Love should be organic.”

“But what if they just need a little help realizing?” Mark whispers, “What if they love you, but they just can’t name the feeling?”

Jaebum shakes his head again, “It doesn’t matter. And it’s like karmic retribution, anyway. I guess I deserve it.”

Mark opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Jaebum interrupts, “Let’s just drop it, okay? Please?”

Mark nods his head, uneasiness clearly stamped across his features, and helps Jaebum clear away the petals before they pay the check and leave.

 

 

Jaebum’s interrupted from editing the bass line of his latest composition when his phone rings.

Almost immediately after he accepts the call, he hears a panicked, “Hyung! Are you alright?” from the other line.

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum greets, “I could be better, but I’m fine.”

“Are you drinking warm honey lemon water? Do you still have pain medication, or do you want me to get more?”

“How’d you even know I had an attack today?”

“Usually, I’d say something stupid like ‘intuition’ so you laugh at me even if it’s true, but Mark-hyung told me.”

“He told-”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom cuts in, “and he’s been asking a lot of questions. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this anxious. He’s really, _really_ worried about you, hyung.”

Jaebum knows what Yugyeom will suggest next, so he rushes out, “You can’t tell him, Yuggie. Please, don’t tell him. He’ll only feel guilty and it’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“You two are seriously cut from the same stone, you know that?” Yugyeom huffs, exasperated, “You guys have spent this whole time avoiding talking about your feelings because you think you’re protecting each other, but you’re killing yourselves in the process! Literally! And do you think Mark _isn’t_ upset right now? Because he is. He’s worried sick about you, wondering who the person you’re in love with is so he can try to figure out how to help you.”

“Yugyeom, I’m serious. I’m _begging_ you, please don’t tell Mark.”

Jaebum can hear the deep sigh Yugyeom lets out before he replies, “I don’t think you’re making the right choice, hyung.”

The line dies as Yugyeom promptly hangs up the phone. Jaebum doesn’t know whether Yugyeom will actually listen to him because the only hyung Yugyeom has ever truly listened to has always been Mark.

He doesn’t know if Mark’s introduction with his disease is for better or for worse, either. The only thing Jaebum knows for sure is that his heart hurts. It _aches_ , but there’s nothing he can do.

 

 

Jaebum wakes up to the sound of an incessant pounding on his door. He’s half expecting it to be Yugyeom checking up on him again, but instead he’s met with the face of someone else.

“Mark? What are you doing here?”

His eyes look tired and red. Jaebum’s chest tightens at the sight.

“Are you okay? Have you been crying?”

“I should be asking you that,” Mark whispers. “Can I come in?”

Jaebum nods and moves away from the door to let Mark through. Mark takes off his shoes, then looks Jaebum dead in the eye, “Yugyeom told me everything.”

He can’t say he’s particularly surprised to hear that piece of information, but still Jaebum exhales a bone-weary sigh and asks, “What do you mean by everything?” as he leads Mark towards his room.

Jaebum burrows into his covers, still warm from his interrupted nap a few minutes before. Mark looks as if he’s debating whether to sit primly on the edge of the bed or not before he decides better of it and pulls out Jaebum’s desk chair to sink into.

“He told me everything from the start. How we met. How I loved you. How I forgot you. How you love me now and it’s killing you just as much as it killed me. He showed me my flower journal, too.”

Mark’s eyes are heartbroken as he continues, “But I don’t remember any of it. It’s not _fair_. It’s not fair that you love me now and I don’t remember how I used to feel about you because not remembering is literally killing you. It’s not fair to you that I robbed you of my feelings for you.”

“Mark….” Jaebum breathes.

“Wait, just let me… let me finish what I wanted to say.” Jaebum nods, but his mind is filled only with thoughts of _This is why I love you, Mark. I hurt you first; I hurt you long before you hurt me, and yet the only thing you can sit here and think of, the only concern you have is how it isn’t fair to_ me _. What about you? I was blind to your feelings and even had you help me with a completely different relationship. I was unfair to you first._

“I like you a lot, Jaebum, I really do, you have to believe me. But I don’t know if it’s love and I don’t want to keep hurting you like this. You need to forget about me. I’m _begging_ you to forget about me.”

Jaebum shakes his head, “I don’t want to forget about you, Mark. I missed my chance the first time, so I’ll have you in whatever capacity I can this time. Even like this.”

Mark explodes out of his chair, “Don’t you get it, Jaebum? If you don’t forget about me, you won’t exist to have me in any capacity at all! I won’t let you do this to yourself! I won’t let you do this to the people who care about you! I’m not worth it!”

 _Oh, Mark_ , Jaebum thinks, _you are. You are, you are, you are. You’re worth everything._

As if sensing his thoughts and his resoluteness, Mark pleads, voice soft, “At least think about it. For me.”

Jaebum knows in his heart that he won’t. He’s almost positive that Mark knows it, too. But Jaebum has the luxury of remembering, so he knows Mark like the back of his hand and understands that Mark won’t go without hearing what he wants to hear and believing the sincerity of it. This Mark doesn’t know Jaebum as well yet, so Jaebum musters up all of the acting knowledge he has and acquiesces, “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

There’s still some doubt in Mark’s eyes, Jaebum can tell, but apparently his answer was enough. Mark stands up, angling his body towards the door, “I should go.”

Before he can take a step, Jaebum grabs a hold of Mark’s wrist.

“Can you stay with me, please?” Jaebum asks, voice small and wavering.

“I…,” Mark looks conflicted, his eyes shifting between the vacant space on the bed and his feet, “Jaebum, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“Please, Mark,” Jaebum tries again, “please, I’m asking for me. I want you here. I need you here, just for tonight.”

Mark looks up at him again, his eyes still uncertain.

“ _Please_.”

With a small sigh, Mark nods his head ever so slightly. He turns away from the door, reaches his hand out to shut off the table lamp, and climbs into bed next to Jaebum, tucking himself into Jaebum’s open, waiting arms.

He tries to gently remove himself at first, to wriggle away and distance himself, but Jaebum just tightens his grip. He nuzzles his nose into Mark’s hair and inhales the smell of his shampoo and thinks that if the plant strangles him tomorrow morning when he wakes up, it will have been worth it to be with Mark like this now.

 

 

Jaebum falls asleep with Mark trapped in between his arms. But Mark fails to join Jaebum in slumber because memory after memory returns, playing in his brain like a movie sequence projected onto his eyelids. So Jaebum isn’t awake to witness tears, happy tears, drip from the corner of Mark’s eyes. He isn’t awake to feel Mark burrow himself closer into Jaebum’s chest. He isn’t awake to hear Mark whisper “I love you” softly into the crook of his neck, over and over and over again.

But when he does wake up, he sees how Mark has maneuvered them to become a mess of tangled limbs at some point during the night. His lungs no longer hurt, his chest is light, his nose is nuzzled so closely to Mark’s that they’re sharing air, and Jaebum smiles to himself because he knows what this means.

Finally, they’ve caught each other at the right time. Finally, Jaebum loves Mark and Mark loves Jaebum and the world is beautiful and bright because they no longer have to worry about hiding feelings and flowers and pain and everything in between.

Finally, they can breathe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO IT’S OVER!!! if you’ve stuck with me until the end: THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ILY!!!
> 
> this was such a wild ride to write and took a lot out of me but i’m glad this story is finally done! i really appreciate everyone dealing with my slow ass (and also a big plot Inconsistency in the prev chapter that I’ve since fixed by editing like five words) :|
> 
> i hope the deja vu / full-circle effect came across in this chapter (i don’t think i was subtle about it, like, AT ALL) and i really really hope you liked the fic and i’m sorry also if the ending wasn’t satisfactory ;~; as i apparently always do, i lost steam and inspiration (school sucking the life out of me, as it always does) and highkey think it could’ve been more angsty but my brain is really dead and dying :/ i think i mentioned this on curiouscat or twitter before, but i’m also more interested in the way relationships develop rather than the actual relationship itself so i’m sorry i didn’t delve into their actual relationship more ahhh
> 
> speaking of twitter, i’ve decided to keep off of the blue bird app for now. i feel like nobody really cares so it doesn’t matter tbh & i kind of like being separated from the drama of stan twt lol
> 
> i still check curiouscat so feel free to yell at me on there ([@rewindmp3](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3)) or yell at me in the comments (pls do so bc i love reading comments even though i’m shit at responding)
> 
> also lmk if i've made any dumb errors because i haven't proofread this at all...
> 
>  
> 
> TL;DR:  
> to anyone who's made it this far: thank you so much for reading my word vomit and being patient with me!! much appreciation for you all and i hope you liked the fic!!


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